Tom Riddle and the Scribe of Nurmengard
by Expedite
Summary: Grindelwald. The name is synonymous with demon. Darkness. Despair. Dumbledore used to be the one thing standing between him and Britain's destruction, but after an unknown weapon surfaces, Grindelwald gains the upper hand. Tom Riddle's first year in the wizarding world may be everyone's last.
1. Prologue

**_[PROLOGUE] The Daily Prophet, morning issue, b__y Dolores Skeeter _**

**Grindelwald Spotted At Godric's Hollow**

Gellert Grindelwald, the greatest dark wizard of our time has been spotted at a small village where both magical beings and muggles dwell. Godric's Hollow, the birthplace of a celebrated wizard, Godric Gryffindor, was threatened yesterday by non-other than Grindelwald himself.

His motives are unknown. In fact, it is a puzzle why Grindelwald's whereabouts have been nearing our midst, when for years he had been terrorizing all of continental Europe.

Elsbeth Montague spotted Grindelwald and made contacts with the Auror Office, right away. But as quickly as he came, he left, and the Aurors were too late at their arrival. "Scariest moment of my life! He was just casually strolling the neighborhood graveyard. I have no idea what he could possibly have been up to, but let me tell you, I don't want to know!" explained a frantic Montague.

Grindelwald's great aunt, Bathilda Bagshot is a known resident of Godrics Hollow. There was no death toll, so could this just be a friendly visit to his great aunt? Bagshot refused to be interviewed.

Although he did not inflict any damage to the village people, his presence altogether should be frightening enough.

Back in his homeland, he is known to torture and murder muggles as a sport. It is also rumored that he took it upon himself to build a prison where lives his enemies and any witch or wizard who dares to thwart him, called Nurmengard. However, no one knows where this prison is. Even as a young lad, his practices were deemed too explicit for a school that focuses around the dark arts, as he was expelled from Durmstrang Institute at the age of sixteen. The Bulgarian Ministry of magic have placed a 30,000 galleon bounty on his head.

The last months alone he was responsible for the death of a muggle family in London, the Carabella's. In the muggle news, it is said that the deaths are being investigated by 'Forensic Investigators'. Forensic Investigation is a muggle occupation with a purpose to propose a hypothesis on how a crime was enacted with the evidence given. The Department of Magical Law Enforcement are misguiding these investigators so that it would look like a mere accident.

The Ministry advises that you take extra cautions, and put safety charms around your house tonight.

**Tragedy at the Ministry**

A tragic week at the Ministry! Three consecutive deaths of Ministry employees followed after Boxing Day. The first victim was the Head of the Muggle Liaison Office, Quincy Quagmire, who was found dead at a Muggle town. The very next day, the Head of Muggle Excuse Worthy Committee, Frank Ensence was discovered lifeless in his own three-story vacation home. And as if things couldn't get any worse, Fedora Manning, Head of the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office dropped dead in her own office the very day after.

Minister, Ottaline Gambol and anyone with a first year education says that this was no mere coincidence. The characteristics between these three abridged legacies are too correlated to ignore. Quagmire, Ensence, and Manning are all muggleborns who openly share a fondness for muggles, and their professions regard muggle affairs. From that we can deduce that the perpetrator is a 'Muggle Shamer'. Furthermore, we can conclude that the perpetrator would most likely be a pure-blood.

The remaining pure-blood line families are currently awaiting trial, only to be questioned. (For the list of the "Sacred Twenty-One", please refer to the bottom of this article.)

Once the trials were launched, the Minister was bombarded with howlers expressing their discontent with these requests. Not only from the Sacred Twenty-One, but half-bloods and muggleborns alike. The act was called many things such as unjust and stereotypical. But Gambol simply states that these are 'necessary precautions' and that any witch and wizard with dirty reputations against Muggles would be questioned as well, in the future.

The Abbot, Longbottom, Ollivander, Shacklebolt, Weasley, and the Burke families have been cleared. The rest are still, at the moment, being scheduled. A resource says that the Gaunt family have refused to partake in the trials completely and hissed at them in parseltongue, the snake language. This makes them even greater targets for the Ministry. The ability to speak to snakes, after all, is a mark of a very dark wizard. The Gaunt's history with muggles aren't very clean either, their record holds previous attacks on muggles and muggleborns.

Could this have been the works of Grindelwald? Surely the ministry wouldn't be stressing on finding the culprit if it was that obvious? Well, Grindelwald was said to be in Bulgaria on the days of these tragic deaths. So Grindelwald has been ruled out, but then who could it possibly be?

Auror, Jenny Shackles who claims to have known the three personally, expresses her grief. "I was friends with Frank since Pre-Kindergarten." (Here, Miss Shackles refers to a first classroom based environment optionally given for muggle children in the United States.) "He introduced me to Quincy and Fedora four years ago. Ever since then, we four have been thick as thieves. I will miss them terribly. Their deaths are unfathomable."

Unfathomable indeed.

The Sacred Twenty-One: _Abbott, Avery, Black, Bulstrode, Burke, Carrow, Crouch, Fawley, Flint, Gaunt, Greengrass, Lestrange, Longbottom, Macmillan, Malfoy, Nott, Ollivander, Parkinson, Prewett, Rosier, Rowle, Selwyn, Shacklebolt, Shafiq, Slughorn, Toddlemore, Travers, Weasley, Yaxley_

* * *

**Summary, courtesy of Darkwinter999. Please follow and review! Sorry, English is not my first language! **


	2. Belated Bliss

_**Chapter**_** ONE:** _Belated Bliss_

* * *

There are several mysteries within the walls of Wool's Orphanage. No one can exactly fathom how a poor rabbit hung itself from the hip jack rafters; neither could anyone link together the pieces of three nearly fatal injuries to young Gary Moore, Billy Stubbs, and Molly Jones.

"Kids were probably having too much fun," explained a bushy-bearded maintenance man Mrs. Cole was interrogating as he continued to mop the floor with lemon scented detergent.

Mrs. Cole later brought the matters to the manager of Houston's Orchestra himself, but elucidated nothing when he said, "The mechanics of our elevators are not within my control. Scandalous, this occurrence may have been, I'm afraid that is as far as my authority can stretch over what has happened. I wish Bary, Gilly, and er, what's her name, a full recovery soon."

Earlier in the day, the children of Wool's Orphanage were jovially skipping through the London streets wrapped in their grey coats. After a months' worth of anticipation, they were finally off to see "The Nutcracker" on Christmas Eve- - - it was not that they had any appreciation for theatrical art, but that they were awaiting their free goodie bags at their arrival.

Before the show, a young woman toured them around the building; it could have been her defective bladder to blame, for when she went off to use the lou, a few children thought it would be a smart idea to ride an elevator bearing a sign that read: "Currently Under Construction Do Not Use".

Two mechanics had been working its functions in the upper floors that very day the children came to the theater. With just a few more screws to screw, the elevator sustained itself until the penultimate landing when it went crashing down to the first floor. The floor of the elevator crumbled and the iron bars bent from the impact of the fall. Gary's foot was impaled by concrete, and both Billy and Molly suffered damages to their skull when the two bumped their heads hard against the iron bars.

It was affirmed to be nobody's faults and rather their own. Although the two mechanics said, "Strange, the elevator worked fine, we took it ourselves twice and a few screws wouldn't have made a difference."

Peter, an orphan whose parents perished in a fire, spoke from his half disfigured lips, "I think know how it happened." he offered up.

Mrs. Cole eyed him eagerly. "I saw Tom run up to the top floor when they were in the elevator and he must have done something, he always does!" he said proudly, pointing a finger at a pale, dark-haired boy.

"That's only because they wouldn't let me go in it too! I went up so I could catch up with them when they got there." said Tom, furiously.

"Well, we did leave the access to the pulleys open," one mechanic whispered to the other.

"Absurd," said Mrs. Cole, only half believing what she was saying. But the impeachments stopped there, and they all went back to the orphanage without having seen the play with sullen faces and returned goodie-bag-less.

There were also previous misfortunes such as the small fire in the cafeteria, and when Amy Benson and Dennis Bishop returned, unlike themselves, from the field trip by the seaside.

No one wanted to say it; no one didn't want to say what- - -or who- - -could have been possible for these incidences. Because it was a common circumstance that if they did, then something horrific would happen to them.

It was a popular rumor that a boy with a very strange name, Tom Marvolo Riddle, was the culprit behind everything from missing mouth pieces and nearly fatal injuries.

Eric Whaley, a boy with chicken pox who wasn't at all brave, spoke up to the matter one morning at breakfast.

"Tom," he said interrupting the pale boy from his porridge.

"What do you want?" Tom demanded, looking very irritated.

Eric took a step backwards. Perhaps he was silly enough to think that Tom wouldn't dare lay a finger on him, simply for the fact that he had chicken pox.

"It's-it's. . .nothing." he stammered. "It's just; I don't think you've been very nice to some of my friends. And-and. . ." he gulped, beginning to regret his decision when Tom stood up from his chair, fists clenched. "And. . .I-I just think you should stop, because . . . they never did anything to you."

And to no one's surprise, Eric Whaley was left with a bruise on his stomach.

Then one day, good news-that the orphanage rarely received finally came when an old man with an auburn beard and a name to which no one was really quite sure of (it was either Dumberton or Dunderbore) visited. Tom was heading to a boarding school very far away. He would still be returning during summers, and possibly Christmas breaks, but it still it gave his victims a much needed break from the scary boy.

Everyone who had ever been targeted by Tom was hiding their excitement of his departure. Even the caretakers, who thought Tom was too much trouble for what he was worth, were quite glad to see him go.

But no one was as elated as Tom himself. No one knew. None of them had any idea. He wasn't just going to some plain old boarding school. He was going to Hogwarts, a school of magic. The man, who Tom knew was Dumbledore, mentioned something about spell books and Muggles, non-magic folk. Dumbledore also possessed some sort of 'magic stick' called a wand which made Tom very eager to get one of his own.

Ever since the strange old man wearing a flamboyant suit informed him of his magical heritage, Tom had kept to himself even more so than normal.

If anything could have prepared him for such an epiphany, it was the fact that many strange things have happened to him.

Tom wasn't exactly the fittest person to climb a towering ten foot fence considering the diet the Orphanage offered, but he managed it one day when he decided he would have liked to wander the London streets at night. And in uneventful days when he was obliged to sit dully in his room containing only a bed, a chair, a desk, and a wardrobe, he discovered unusual things about himself. If he had concentrated hard enough, he could move objects without touching them. He could also converse with snakes, a trait he discovered during field trips to the country sides; and one which he took more pride in.

As promised to Dumbledore, Tom returned the objects he stole, a list that contained a yo-yo, a silver thimble, and a tarnished mouth piece to their proper owners with apologies as sincere as he could put them. Despite how much the excessively kind words made him choke.

In just two long days, Tom would be heading to Hogwarts. He decided time was ripe to ask Mrs. Cole for permission to go and buy his supplies which she eagerly showed him off.

It was early in the morning when Tom awoke. He knelt beside his bed to retrieve an old pocket watch that he stole from Martha, a caretaker. It was about seven-thirty ante meridian. In about a half hour, Martha would be banging pots together throughout the hallway, asking kindly for the children to make their way into the dining hall for breakfast.

To pass time, Tom laid down in bed with a book in one hand, and a handful of hair in the other. He was almost pulling out his hair from impatience as he read the increasingly dull words of The Provincial Letters.

Finally, the sound of clanging pans filled the halls, followed by the rebarbative cries of infants. Tom pocketed the envelope, thick with parchment that Dumbledore gave him, and the small sack-full of fat gold coins. He dashed quickly out of his room and down the cold stone stairs, almost tripping on the first landing.

Tom waited beside the cafeteria entrance as the children were beginning to pile into the room. And within the gathering crowd, Tom spotted a harassed looking woman with her hair tied up in a bun.

Tom walked swiftly towards her. "Mrs. Cole!" he called out.

"Tom," said Mrs. Cole who was just leaving her office, looked concerned. "What could it possibly be at this time?"

"I wanted to ask you something."

"Well, carry on then." said Mrs. Cole, waving her hands as though attempting to swat an invisible fly.

"I'll be leaving in about two days-"

"John, that banister is not a playground! And Frank, there's no time to be acting a fool in the hallways!" Mrs. Cole bellowed to two hyper children, cutting off what Tom was about to say, which made his anger rise. The boy by the name of John got his head stuck in the banisters and Frank was kicking John on his rear, both laughing a maniacal laugh. Obviously, this was their idea of fun.

She began to call out orders, "Esme, will you be an angel and apply Eric's ointment for me today?" she said to the youngest caretaker who had sweet doe-like eyes.

"My pleasure, Miss." Esme said in an angelic voice. Then, unlike her sweet voice, she grabbed an unfortunate boy with chicken pox by the ears and dragged him upstairs.

Eric looked at Tom with much loathing as he passed, Tom returned it.

"Anyways, back to the matter, Tom, what did you say?" said Mrs. Cole, turning back to Tom.

"I was saying that I haven't got any of my supplies." Tom said as composed as possible. "So, I was wondering if I could go now and buy my things, on my own, of course?" he finished.

Mrs. Cole looked at him uncertainly. "Do you know where to go?"

"Yes ma'am," responded Tom.

"Very well," she said, feeling very awkward from just being called 'ma'am'. Tom had never been this polite to her before. "Just don't go associating yourself with strangers." she warned.

Tom bowed his head, masking his excitement. "Thank you," he added simply.

Tom walked quickly to the entrance of Wool's Orphanage, a door greenish-grey door that had seen better days.

"And be back by nine!" Mrs. Cole called out after him, "And that's A.M. not P.M., don't you go screwing up my words!"

He walked through the orphanage's withering gates and into the hustle and bustle of a London morning. The sidewalks were still glimmering from last night's rain and it was chilly enough for goose bumps to erupt. People were minding their own, as usual. Avoiding each other's glares that read to one another, 'My clothes are more expensive clothes than you.'

Tom passed by an elder man with a beaten up cane. "Young man, what do you think you're doing wandering out here alone?" the man said, much like a provoked bumble bee, who recognized Tom by his grey tunic that he was a resident at Wool's Orphanage.

Tom continued to walk away, pacing himself much faster now. He turned back and shouted, "Mind your own business you filthy old-!" but Tom caught himself mid-sentence. He thought that if he were to parade around as a sickly 'polite and charming' boy under the piercing eyes of Dumbledore, that he should start now. So he ignored the man as hard as he could, until he had disappeared within a crowd.

Following Professor Dumbledore's directions, Tom found himself in front of Charing Cross Road.

Dumbledore said that 'Muggles' would only see a broken down shop, when the likes of him, would see the Leaky Cauldron.

Sure enough, between a Muggle book shop and record store, sat The Leaky Cauldron.

Feeling apprehensive, he twisted the knob of its entrance door, and entered.

Tom had expected something quite grand. But he was only welcomed to a dark and deteriorating pub. In one corner, a man was reading a newspaper. The newspaper was half folded so he could not make out what it fully said. He could only read the end of a word, "-elwald." There was a picture of an elder man with blue eyes. He had a very tall nose and wrinkled face, with the slightest trace of his handsome youth. It took a moment for Tom to realize when the man blinked at him that the picture was moving.

Tom surveyed the pub more and found the most peculiar menu on a plaque on the wall that read:

This establishment of Diagon Alley the Leaky Cauldron is noted for its most excellent and delicious luncheon.

-Leaky House Soup III Sickles

-Soup House Leaky III Sickles

-House Soup Leaky III Sickles

-Leaky Soup House IV Sickles

-Soup Leaky House IV Sickles

-House Leaky Soup IV Sickles

-Leaky, Leaky Soup V Sickles

-House, House Soup V Sickles

-Soup Soup Soup V Sickles

-Soup Soup Leaky V Sickles

. . . And so on.

While Tom was busy looking around, a bald and hunch backed man disrupted his view.

"How may I help you? I'm Tom, I work here." the bald man introduced himself, holding out a hand. Young Tom didn't very much like his smile, or the fact that they shared first names.

Bald-headed Tom was still smiling at him eagerly, and finally Tom shook the other Tom's hand.

"Diagon Alley," the boy said plainly.

The older man understood this at once. "Right this way," said the man, gesturing two arms towards a doorway, as though introducing a celebrity. The worker led him on.

"Business has been pitiful now-a-days." said the older man, but Tom really couldn't care less. "Those foreign scums he continued to mutter to himself. "Well boy, going to Hogwarts I reckon?" he asked.

"Yes," said Tom, suddenly feeling a rush of curiosity and began to ask many questions, "Have you been there? What is it like?"

"Muggleborn, are you?" Tom had no idea what he meant by that, but he did catch the word 'muggle', which he knew meant the filthy people back home, and wondered if the elderly man had just insulted him.

"Well," the older man continued. "I was in Hufflepuff but I left in my sixth year to take care of this dump my mother left me."

Tom felt dazed. What the hell was a Hufflepuff?

He followed the older man through a door, and was introduced to a small brick walled courtyard. There was nothing but a trash can and a few dandelion plants escaping from the crevices of concrete.

The older man took out a stick from his pocket and started to tap on the brick wall.

Tom, who couldn't see completely what the older man was doing, thought it was very absurd, and wondered to himself how in the world this would. . .

Tom's eyes widened as a hole appeared in its center before his very eyes, a busy cobbled street appeared. He then realized that Dumbledore's wild attire was actually within the norm. Witches and Wizards were wearing robes of all colors. A popular choice, it seemed, was green and violet, along with matching pointy hats.

The older man held out two wide arms again and smiled down at the boy.

Without thinking, his legs carried themselves into the busy street, he looked back behind him and saw that the older man had gone; there was just a plain brick wall. But the building of the Leaky Cauldron still stood.

He didn't know where to begin to look. Tom's eyes darted hither and tither.

After eleven years of residing in a grim orphanage, living off tasteless muck, waking up to the strong smell of bleach every 'cleaning day', having to hear the cries of infants he had never grown immune to, being bothered by Billy Stubbs and his stupid gang, no presents for Holidays, false accusations, un-fully cooked meals, an over stock of bland grey tunics, very rare bliss, and being bossed around by an old bat. . .

Tom broke out the first wide smile to ever grace his face after a very, very long time.


	3. Prized Possession

**Chapter TWO**: _Prized Possession _

* * *

There were rows of shabby but handsome looking shops. Some looked as if they were on the verge of tipping over. Heaps of whimsy gadgets were piled in front of the third store to his left, next to an _Apothecary. _

A sudden shrieking noise grabbed Tom's attention to a store with many caged cats, owls, and tanked frogs. It was boarded up with a fancy sign that read _Eeylops Owl Emporium and Magical Menagerie_. Next to it was_ Quality Quidditch Supplies_. An image of very itchy flaking scabs popped up in Tom's head as he read the word 'Quidditch'. In front of it was a handsome silver broomstick propped up on a pedestal with a sign that read:

_Prized broom artisan, Leonard Jewkes, presents the** Silver Arrow**. Greatly surpasses that of Elias Grimstone's pitiful in comparison, Oakshaft 79, and Gladys Boothby's snail-speed Moontrimmer. A family broomstick that will last generations to come!_

Momentarily transfixed, he was unaware of the traffic he was holding up.

"Little boy, what are you gawking at?" said a fat man with caterpillar brows, "Out of the way!"

Tom didn't understand what was all the fuss, the fat man could have easily walked around him, and he did. Tom watched the fat man with great discontent as he wobbled through the busy road, clutching at least 6 shopping bags on both hands. He breathed in, in effort to keep himself from calling out an insult.

Tom stepped away from the traffic of people to the front of_ Potage's Cauldron Shop_ to consult his list. It was a double folded brochure thrice categorized. The first category had a symbol of a lion, a snake, an eagle, and a badger surrounding the letter H and read:

**HOGWARTS SCHOOL** _of_** WITCHCRAFT** _and_** WIZARDRY**

- - Uniform - -

First-Year students will require:

1. Three sets of plain work robes (black)

2. One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear

3. One pair of protected gloves (dragon hide or similar)

4. One winter cloak (black, silver fastenings)

_Please note that all pupil's clothes should carry name tags_

Tom looked up from the parchment and surveyed the stores until he found what he needed. Speedily, Tom went through an obstacle of chattering people towards a store with headless mannequins adorned with stylish robes. A quick look at a price tag of a plain black robe made him rummage his sackful of coins and further analyze the fat gold currency. To Tom's discovery that they were all _Galleons_, made him realize he did not have enough money for the robes considering all the other things he needed to buy.

A very thin lady with bulging eyes took note of this and tapped Tom on his shoulders. "You might want to try the Second Hand Robes," she advised sweetly. She turned Tom around by his shoulders, slightly hunching to his height, and pointed at something near a grandiose building. "You just have to turn right when you reach Gringotts, and you'll spot the Second Hand Robes next to Whizz Hard Books - - - don't get your books there, - - - s'matter a fact, why don't you start with your books over there. Much closer," She spun him around and pointed to another book shop across the populated street.

"S'matter a fact," she said once again, "Why don't you start with your cauldron, so you can have something to carry your books in? Potage's Cauldrons is just four stores down west, Pumpkin."

Tom hoped no one heard the woman regard him as _Pumpkin. _ "Thank you," said Tom.

"No problem, sweetums. Good day to you!" she said, spinning her green witch hat Tom was familiar with in muggle story books, and headed for north.

Tom cringed, trying not to show his displeasure. _Sweetums?_

Pursuing the woman's directions, he brought himself to Potage's Cauldron Shop. A tiny bell tinkled at his arrival.

The pyramids of disheveled cauldrons of all sorts made for a rather claustrophobic atmosphere. However, there was still a certain charm to it and Tom couldn't exactly make out what it was.

The plump store owner was already consulting a customer on the counter. A girl, about the same age as Tom himself was purchasing three Brass Cauldrons. A woman who Tom guessed was the girls mother- - - although they shared no resemblance except for the habit of wearing their curly hair in a pony tail,- - - was standing alongside her.

Her heavy lidded eyes contributed to her defeated demeanor.

"It's only your first year. Why in the world would you need three cauldrons?" asked the store owner.

"I break things easily," the girl responded as she was counting galleons on the counter.

"Well surely if you could afford three Brass Cauldrons you can purchase an owl to send you another if it breaks?" suggested the store owner.

"Bird droppings," the girl shuddered at the thought.

"Thank you, Madam Potage," the mother said as she lifted two of the Brass Cauldrons. "Come, sweetie. Let's go get your potion kit."

As the girl struggled to carry even one cauldron, she turned around and gasped at the sight of Tom.

"Hey, you're that muggle boy aren't you?" she exclaimed, louder than Tom wished it to be.

The mother nudged her daughter with her knee. "Don't be rude. Obviously he's not a muggle if he's here." she whispered to her.

"Oh, sorry," she said insincerely and sounding rather insulted she continued, "You never told me you were a wizard! All those times I was in the park with you orphans, and I thought I was the only one in my neighborhood."

"I never knew until a man named Dumbledore told me." Tom explained, feeling a bit disconcerted, not at all familiar with the girls face.

"You've met that loon?" she asked. "How is he like? My Great Aunt Nessie _adores_ him. I promised to get her his autograph this year, in exchange for nothing! Can you believe that?"

"Why would anyone want that bats autograph?"

"Becau- - - AGHH!" she yelped. Her mother kicked her on the back of her leg instead of giving a friendly nudge.

"Let's go! You're holding this poor boy up and I have a job I need to get to." the mother commanded urgently.

"Okay, mother!" she groaned, looking somewhat embarrassed, they left without another word.

"First year?" said Madam Potage once they were finally alone. Tom nodded.

Madam Potage took note of his sackful of Galleons and being familiar with this situation, she took a faded looking Pewter Cauldron and handed it to him over the counter. Dumbledore did mention having to get some of his things second hand.

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but didn't that little girl say you were a... errr," she was trying not to sound rude, "That err, you were an orphan? By any chance?"

"Yes ma'am," said Tom, looking a tad disappointed at his peeling cauldron.

Taking pity of him, and secretly, a charm from his handsome face, Madam Potage said, "Why don't you take that free of charge? My gift to you, so you can have some money left to buy something for yourself."

Her green rounded eyes looked at him with great sympathy. Her bleeding heart vexed Tom, but he got a free cauldron so he couldn't complain.

"Thank you," he added simply and to make much of his time he left the store and traveled to the next one.

Tom noticed that the Wizarding World had a certain style to it, something he concluded from observing each store. Stacks of curious objects were inclined at certain angles that made it seem as if it were about to fall.

So upon entering Flourish and Blotts, it didn't surprise him to see a plethora of books placed in the same fashion.

The books had an appeal to them much like a crackling fire offered on rainy days. With stains inflicted by its previous owners and its binding worn and raggedy, some of the best compliments a book could ever receive.

Another pattern he also found amongst the shops was that the store owners took a fancy for entitling their store by their names. So as Tom rung the bell on the counter, he wondered if the young pudgy faced mans name was Flourish or Blotts.

Flourish or Blotts was taking out brand new books from a wooden crate. "Just a minute!" he called out.

Once he was finished placing books on a top row shelf he rushed towards Tom.

"Blotts, how may I help you?" Blotts asked.

"I need to purchase my books for Hogwarts." Tom explained.

Blotts bent down below the counter, picking up a stack of books and placing them with a loud thud on its surface.

"All done and ready. Leave your money on the counter." said Blotts who then quickly busied himself to dusting rows of books. Tom examined the books and found that none of them were on his list.

"Err, excuse me?" interrupted Tom.

"What is it, son?"

"These aren't the correct books." Tom made clear.

"Oh I'm sorry. Which editions did I give you?"

"Third."

"Ahh, so is this your second year? Honest mistake."

"Umm, no sir. This is my first year."

Blotts looked perplexed. "Honest mistake." he repeated. "Quite tall for a first year. I guess it's just my imagination, they get shorter and shorter every year."

Tom placed his sack of gold on the table and began counting them. "How much do I need?" he wondered.

"Second Hand?" Blotts asked, placing anew set of books on the counter, as worn as the one before. "It would run you about six Galleons and 29 Knuts. Or six Galleons and a Sickle. Whichever you please."

"I'm sorry, what?"

"Seventeen Silver Sickles in a Galleon, twenty-nine bronze Knuts to a Sickle. Muggleborn, are you?" Blotts placed the tatty second handed book set on the table. Tom placed them inside his cauldron.

This was the second time Tom heard the phrase Muggleborn, and he still didn't know what it meant. He was about to ask but the moment he looked up, the store manager had vanished from sight. He placed seven Galleons on the counter without having the patience to wait for his change, he left.

Tom carried on with the rest of the necessities, purchasing glass phials, a telescope, and a set of brass scales, and second hand clothing. He didn't bother to linger or make small talk with anyone. He was impatient to consult the last item on his list. Saving the best for last, he stood in front of _Ollivanders. _Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C.

"Morning," a man said faintly as he walked in. The man wasn't within eyes sight but Tom predicted by his voice that Ollivander (as the store name suggested) was very old.

Sure enough, a thin ancient looking man emerged from behind the shelves of similar rectangular boxes. The light streaming from the poor assisted windows illuminated the dancing dust. The silence and the smell of rotting wood made for a very eerie aura.

"Morning." Tom said, withholding his excitement.

Ollivander swished a magic stick of his own. Tom didn't know what was his purpose of this, but as a tape measure flung itself to Tom and began measuring him with no support, he understood.

While the tape was measuring his wingspan and the distance between the tip of his ears to his nose, Ollivander disappeared behind tall rows of shelves.

Once the tape was finished, it flung itself back on top of an old stool. Ollivander returned balancing seven boxes to his chest and placed them on the counter.

"Why don't you try this wand, Beech wood, eleven inches, unicorn tail hair, and quite brittle."

Tom eagerly reached for the wand and gave it a wave but there was no effect whatsoever.

"Mhmm, I didn't think so." Ollivander said, handing Tom another one. Ollivander shuffled the boxes and picked another at random. He opened the box to reveal a stylish dark black wand that looked as if it were polished too much for its own good.

"Should you be fit with an Ebony wand?" Ollivander wondered out loud. Tom had a special talent all on his own for levitating objects even without a wand. He wondered what it would be like using a proper magical instrument.

Using the ebony wand, he screwed up his face in concentration, willing to impress as he made a rock that was used a paper weight float in thin air. Ollivander began to clap his hands together until Tom lost control of the rock and threw itself into a window to his right, shattering the glass.

"Sorry." apologized Tom.

"Not to worry, that is easily remedied." he assured. "Why don't you try another one?"

Tom's stomach did a somersault every time he tried a new wand. Ebony with unicorn tail hair wasn't quite the match for him. Neither was a Laurel and Larch wood.

There was one last wand from the pile Ollivander had chosen.

"If this isn't the one, then we may spend another half hour here" said Ollivander. "Thirteen and a half inches, yew, phoenix core, very strong."

Tom wouldn't have mind to spend another half hour here but his curfew was short and time was fleeting.

Ollivander carefully placed the handsome wand on the palm of Tom's hands.

At the very moment, Tom felt an electric spark in his fingertips. The tip of the wand lit up. Ollivander smiled brightly at this revelation and clapped three times.

"Try Orchideous!" he suggested.

"_Orchideous_!" Tom exclaimed confidently, and a bouquet of flowers were conjured from thin air. It gave him an accomplished feeling. He was very impressed with himself.

Ollivander who had caught the flowers, tuck them snugly inside Tom's already packed cauldron.

Tom left Diagon Alley that day with a new prized possession that he paid seven Galleons for.

In secrecy, Tom snuck his items to his room. He didn't want to be pestered with questions of what kind of school would need some sort of pot for soup making. Upon his return, he also gave the bouquet of flowers to Mrs. Cole who acted very flustered at this gesture.

"You know what?" she said, smiling widely while sniffing the bouquets sweet fragrance. "I think I'll take it back when I told you I couldn't wait to see you go."

"You said that?"

"Oh..."


	4. Brand-new Beginning

This chapter was meant to be much, much, much longer. I think I reached over 12,000 words. But I was stupid and deleted the file that carried it and had to quickly rewrite it again. I know I haven't updated in along time. I've been too busy with school. Note that this chapter is incomplete and I wrote it very angrily due to my careless blunder. But I haven't updated in forever, so might as well...

* * *

**Chapter_ THREE:_** _Brand-new Beginning_

The following days passed by with little to no significance.

This morning, Tom packed his belongings into a brown suitcase previously owned by Mrs. Cole's husband. He was finally heading for Hogwarts.

Under Mrs. Cole's supervision, Tom was to take a cab ride to Kings Cross station. (As the train tickets Dumbledore gave him suggested.)

"I can fare well on my own." Tom said as he tried to convince Mrs. Cole into letting him venture his way into the train station alone.

"No," she replied. "Absolutely not, I won't allow it! And my word is final."

Mrs. Cole looked more anxious than harassed. "Especially not after what happened to the Carabella's." Mrs. Cole shuddered as she recalled an excerpt from yesterdays newspaper.

Tom had always disliked being assisted as if he were obtuse as the other children his age. _But just this once, and never again, _he thought to himself, and it eased his temper slightly.

"Martha, don't leave Billy alone. He's starting to pick on his scabs." she ordered before leaving. "And Esme, don't forget Amy and Dennis' morning time stories. It always makes the rest of the day easier for them. Oh, and Annie, one last thing, go in my office and on my desk you should find a pile of papers that needs to be filed. Good luck!"

No one had bidden him farewell as he left that day. Not even the caretakers who had raised him from infantry.

An interminable cab ride ensued, or maybe Tom was just imagining it.

The weather called for a soft drizzle. Twice, the cabdriver had to stop the car and wipe the front windows with his sleeves. He owned a very late model of a buggy car which had no windshield wipers.

Mrs. Cole was sitting in the front seat. She had insisted him to sit in the back seat because it was 'a lot safer'. Her concern irked Tom. He didn't need pity and he didn't want it. But he silently agreed as he didn't want to waste any more time on arguing.

"Tom, are you doing okay back there?" Mrs. Cole called out to Tom, who was looking out the window. But her words were drowned by Tom's thoughts.

He began to ponder at many things as he looked out of the window. He wondered where in the world would Hogwarts sit, away from prying muggle eyes. Surely, something along the lines of a 'magic school' would be very hard to ignore? He wondered whether he would meet people just like him. But he didn't want there to be anyone just like him. At this thought, his hatred for his name grew. Tom had met about a dozen Tom's. He had always wished his first name was as unique as the rest of it.

"_Marvolo Riddle?_" Amy Benson laughed. Tom could almost smell the salt and mildew again. The sound of waves crashing upon jagged rocks didn't seem too distant. With the cuspate rocks, the fall would have been fatal if Tom had decided to push Amy off.

"_What kind of name is that?_" Dennis Bishop piped up. "_I think your mother hated you._"

Amy Benson and Dennis Bishop were never quite the same again after that one field trip to the sea side. _Serves them right._

The view beyond the window became indistinguishable. Tom was now watching water droplets race to the bottom of the window, but the rain had already ceased.

_Tom Marvolo Riddle._ Mrs. Cole had said his mother gave him the name Tom Riddle, for his father, and Marvolo for his maternal grandfather.

His mother succumbed to death shortly after enduring labor, with this, Tom concluded that she must have been a muggle. Or else she wouldn't have been so inferior during death. His father however, was alive.

The thoughts on his fathers whereabouts occupied him for a prolonged period of time. How dare he, leave him with such filthy vermin? As if he could be classified in the same lowly level as those orphans who cry for a warm bottle of milk.

Then the car jerked and the sound of a small explosion muffled by metal brought him back to Earth. The cab had stopped moving. It was lucky that they were in the middle of an unoccupied road.

"What in the world?" yelled a frantic Mrs. Cole. She had her hands above her chest and was breathing deeply.

There was dark smoke emitting from the bonnet of the car.

"Angie! My sweet Angie!" cried the cab driver who quickly left the car and went to examine the engines.

"Tom, are you okay?" said Mrs. Cole, breathing heavily.

Tom, who was angered that he was being held up, ignored her question and said, "How far are we from the station? I can walk."

"Absolutely not!" she smacked the glove compartment open and three pieces of peppermint fell out.

"I'm not a baby!" he said angrily.

"Let's get out of the car now before this thing explodes." Mrs. Cole said, failing to sound calm.

When Tom stepped out of the car, the socks within his shoes got soaked as he stepped into a small puddle. Furious, he slammed the car door shut as hard as he could, and the glass of the window shattered.

"No! My poor baby!" moaned the cab driver who then knelt beside his car and started caressing it's peeling paint. He whispered to it, "Angie, my love. I'm sorry I have failed you."

Tom couldn't help but laugh at the pathetic sight. Mrs. Cole saw this and said, "How dare you?"

But as she turned around, Tom swore he caught the slightest grin on her face as the cabdriver continued to whisper mentally to the car, "Angie, be silent. Do not cry. Do not cry for me. We will see each other again in the netherworld."

"Mr. Bryce, are you okay?" Mrs. Cole consulted the cab driver, placing a caring hand on his shoulders.

"Of course I'm not you blithering idiot!" Mr. Bryce slapped Mrs. Cole squarely on the face. Judging from the sound of it, Mr. Bryce must have used all his might.

Tom thought it was impossible to look even more harassed than Mrs. Cole usually did, but he was wrong.

"HOW DARE YOU LAY YOUR HANDS ON A WOMAN!" she shrieked. Her face was red. Tom thought this would have been the most appropriate times for smoke to emit from her ears, like it did in newspaper cartoons.

"You murdered my poor Angie!" Mr. Bryce continued to cry as he started to french kiss the car door handle.

Mrs. Cole looked lost for words. "Tom, go and get your things." she finally managed to say, her voice quivering.

Tom went and retrieved his luggage from inside the trunk. Honestly, he really didn't mean to, but as the trunk door slammed shut, the car accelerated on its own. Mr. Bryce was left face-planted on the concrete floor. It took a moment for him to recover from the unexpected scramming of his late and beloved Angie. Then, as he pinched his bloody nose, he ran and chased after her- - - or it.

Mrs. Cole turned to Tom and grabbed him by the hands and just started walking, abandoning Mr. Bryce.

"Stop dragging me, I'm not a kid!" Tom jerked his hands from Mrs. Cole's grip, but she didn't stop pacing incredibly fast for someone who recently had knee surgery.

"Just follow me." her voice vibrated with every quick step she took.

"Do you even know where to go?" Tom asked, advancing himself to Mrs. Cole's speed, dragging along his wheeled luggage.

They were nearing an old weathered park. It was deserted, it wasn't much of a popular area in town. Tom and the other orphans used to play here during the summers. But he would always just take a seat on one of the moldy benches. What stood out from it was a grand and newly installed fountain. It was white and glimmering unlike the rest of the park which was dark and deteriorating. Propped up on top of it beneath three circular layers of white marble, was a statue of a lone black sheep.

Mrs. Cole started to sweat as they finally walked the fountains diameter. Then, there was a faint familiar voice from behind him, "Hey!" it called out.

Both Mrs. Cole and Tom stopped and turned to look at the source of the voice. In front of the fountain, a silhouette of a little girl against the morning sun was waving it's short arms widely. "Hey! Muggle boy, I know you can hear me!"

A taller figure with the same curly and pony tailed hair smacked the back of the little girls head and shouted, "Don't mutter that word around here!"

"Are they talking to you?" asked Mrs Cole. Tom didn't know why, but he just started walking towards the two figures. Mrs. Cole followed.

They were the same mother and daughter he met at Potage's Cauldron shop. The mother had an arm gently wrapped around the girls neck, whose arm was wrapped around her mothers waist. She had already been wearing her plain black Hogwarts robes.

"I like your dress, Mrs. Cole." said the little girl, indicating Mrs. Cole's working dress that one of the infants threw up on near the neck line.

"Mrs. Toddlemore!" Mrs. Cole exclaimed. "What brings you here?"

"Morning," said the mother. Tom wondered how they knew each other. "It's my daughters first day of school."

Tom felt like he was the only stranger there. Everyone knew each other except him.

"Really? Well it's this lads first day of school as well." engaged Mrs. Cole. "Is she by any chance going to Hogwash?"

"Hogwarts." the little girl corrected with an air of pride. Mrs. Toddlemore stared down at her with authority, so the girl added in a fake sweet voice, "Ma'am."

"I see," said Mrs. Cole. "Now why in the world were you calling us, just moments ago?"

"I don't know myself, actually." said Mrs. Toddlemore, who was exchanging dark looks with her daughter.

"I was going to offer the boy to come with us instead, if he wants." the little girl offered. "We know a faster route to the station."

"Do you know each other?" asked Mrs. Cole, looking from the little girl and back to Tom.

"We've met." he added.

"Well?" asked the girl, impatiently.

"I'm going." Tom said to Mrs. Cole.

"Are you sure?"

"Of course I am! The faster I leave, the better!"

Tom didn't very much like the girl, she seemed to have some of the worst qualities he loathed the most; loud, obnoxious, and rude. But there had been too many delays on his way to Hogwarts, and the anticipation was killing him. He could manage.

"Fine." Mrs. Cole gave up. "Watch over him." she said Mrs. Toddlemore while giving a slight glare towards Tom.

"Certainly." Mrs. Toddlemore assured her.

Mrs. Cole knelt down and whispered to Tom, "Well, this is the last I'll be seeing you for a while. Be good." Then, she embraced him in the first hug he had ever received. She stood up and dusted the skirt of her gown. "Goodbye." and she strode off.

Once Mrs. Cole had gone, the girl held out a hand. "My name's Piper." she introduced herself.

After a moments hesitation he shook the girls hand. "Tom." he said.

"I don't usually associate myself with people like you." she said rather bluntly.

"Excuse me?" Tom asked furiously.

"Mud- - -Muggleborns, I mean." Piper began. "But I haven't seen another witch or wizard my age because I've been grounded for a year. I've only been able to befriend muggles since then; they're not as bad as I expected, but still. The desperation gets to you when you've been around them long enough."

Desperation? Tom felt angry, she was basically regarding him as a last resort and had the nerve to suggest they'd be friends.

"What exactly is a muggleborn?" he asked more calmly than how he was really feeling. Tom figured she would be only good to practice his temper on. He knew the blue in Dumbledore's eyes weren't the reason why they were so piercing. No, it was a type of magic that he should approach with caution.

"A witch or wizard with non-magical parents." she answered.

"How can you be so sure?" Tom asked, feeling a twinge of disappointment towards his heritage.

"Well, you were brought up in a muggle orphanage, weren't you?"

Mrs. Toddlemore kicked her on the leg again, like she did back at Potage's. "I can't believe how rude you can be, sometimes!" she said.

"Its getting late, let's go." Piper said, ignoring her mother. Piper heaved herself up on the rim of the fountain.

"Only two people can fit, and with this boy's luggage, that's an even bigger hassle." said Mrs. Toddlemore, looking up at the fountain.

"What are you talking about?" Tom asked. _Fit where?_

"We're travelling through the fountain. It was built when we moved to this neighborhood." Piper explained. "For business reasons, my mother said."

"How exactly does that work?" Tom surveyed the fountain for any evidence of something like a door.

"You'll see." said Piper.

Mrs. Toddlemore shared an affectionate hug with her daughter. "Well, you go along with the boy. But three of us can't fit. I've got some business to settle with your uncle. Be safe, love you."

Piper looked embarrassed, brushing her mother off, "I know mom, I know!"

"Don't forget to write to me. Have a good school year!" Then in a blink of an eye and a loud cracking sound, she had gone.

"What just happened?" Tom asked curiously.

"She just apparated."

Tom was very eager to be exposed to more magic. He climbed on the rim of the fountain, struggling with his luggage. His eyes were still fixed upon the place where Mrs. Toddlemore just 'apparated.'

"Don't get too excited," said Piper as she jumped on the second layer of the fountain. "They won't teach us how to do that until our seventh year."

Piper leaped on the final layer. "Follow me! Make sure there are no muggles around." she instructed.

It was very difficult to climb the fountain without getting wet. Being burdened with a heavy luggage didn't help. Tom groaned as half of his pants got soaked on his way to the third inner rim of the fountain.

Piper looked very ridiculous, sitting on the black sheep. But if the magical world had taught him anything so far, it was that not everything was as it seems. He grunted in complaint of his soggy shoes and pants.

After he had positioned himself on top of the sheep, the circular white marble base that the Sheep was propped up on began to spin slowly. They were elevating down the fountain. The light was getting dimmer as they spun deeper down a hole. As if things couldn't get any more inconvenient, a gush of water poured down on them from the top. They were soaking wet from top to bottom.

Tom recalled a flashback from one of his visits to this very fountain. The orphans were playing their invented water games in the fountain, and little Peter was caught doing both number one and two on the spot. Peter became a laughing stock for a week since nothing interesting ever happened in the orphanage. They made sure to stress Peter's accident as much as possible.

Tom spat the water that found its way into his mouth with disgust, knowing that Peter's digestions were probably being recycled over and over again through the fountain water.

"I forgot about that. It's still a bit under construction." she said, twisting the water out of her hair.

The water had collected up to their knees. "Well, _I am_ thirsty." she shrugged and cupped her hands to gather water. Tom could have warned her, but this was too funny to miss. By then she had already drunk the water and possibly some fecal matter.

All light was eliminated when the entrance on the top was blocked by another circle of concrete. It was silent except for their breathing and the sound of draining water.

Tom suddenly felt a weird but rather satisfying sensation. It was as if the softest pillows were pressing down on him from every side of his body. After it had stopped, he noticed he was air dry again.

"What now?" Tom asked Piper.

But a different voice answered, "What is your destination?" said a deep baritone voice. Tom suspected this must have been the sheep statue.

"Kings Cross." answered Piper in the darkness. They began to slowly spin upwards this time. When it stopped, still, nothing happened.

"What now?" Tom repeated.

"Help me push the top." said Piper, who sounded as if she were struggling with something. When Tom suddenly heard the sound of wind, and saw a crescent crack of light from above, he understood.

They emerged from what was a manhole cover. They were now in a corner of a dim and deserted alley. The alley walls stretched very far to where the square of light emitting from the end of the alley from perspective was tiny.

Piper pushed the manhole cover back in it's place, which had _The London Sewerage System_ engraved on it.

Hauling his luggage, they quickly ran to the small square of light. As they got closer, they noticed many people dressed in business attire were all walking in one direction. Instinctively, they followed. As soon as they left the dark alleyway, Tom heard something like a soft thundering. He looked back and found that the alley they had emerged from was gone.

They were strolling within a crowd of muggles. He could tell from their boring appearances. "Where are we going, exactly?" he wondered out loud. All he knew was that they were in a train station. But why with muggles?

"We need to find Platform Nine and Three Quar-hey watch it!" exclaimed Piper, who at the same time, accidentally walked into a lady wearing an outfit inappropriate for the weather. She wore yellow floral beach shorts that clashed terribly with her violent purple sweatshirt.

"Are you two lost?" she asked concernedly.

"Mrs. Quagmire!" Piper gasped.

"Ehh?" said Mrs. Quagmire in confusion. "Do I know you?"

"I'm my mothers daughter." explained Piper.

"No! Really?" she said, heavy sarcasm.

"I mean Mrs. Toddlemore." said Piper, sounding rather grumpy.

"Oh!" Mrs. Quagmire exclaimed. "But we've never met?"

"No."

"So how do you know who I am? She doesn't talk about me a lot, does she?" she asked, patting her bouncy bob haircut and looking very flattered all the same.

"Not really." replied Piper, and at this, Mrs. Quagmire looked very disappointed. "I've seen you and my mother speaking a couple times. Always for business reasons." Rolling her eyes, she continued, "She tells me to keep to my room, but I was listen from the banisters. You won't tell her, won't you?"

"'Course not." Mrs. Quagmire said, still sounding offended and muttered more to herself than to anyone else, "Especially if she doesn't appreciate me enough to tell her own daughter about me..."

Meanwhile, Tom just stood there, growing more and more impatient. Mrs. Quagmire eyed him, and Tom could tell from how she looked at her from top to bottom, that she was judging him. "Who's he?" she asked smugly.

"Just a friend." said Piper. From what Tom recalled, they were never 'friends', but he chose to ignore this. "Could you tell us where Platform 9 3/4 is?"

"Surely. I just escorted my son there, actually. I've been itching to go home. I hate being seen in this muggle attire." Mrs. Quagmire turned around and pointed at a seemingly plain brick wall dividing Platforms Nine and Ten. "Just walk straight through that barrier."

Tom wondered what it was about the Wizarding World and brick walls. From the entrance to Diagon Alley and the exit from the dark alley, now this.

"Follow me." instructed Mrs. Quagmire, and they obeyed. "You just have to run straight through with confidence." she continued, screwing her face up i determination and posed as if she were a marathon runner about to sprint.

"We get it, you said that already." said Piper, looking weirdly at Mrs. Quagmire who was modeling the way they should run through the barrier.

"Okay, got your things?" asked Mrs. Quagmire. Tom slightly held up his luggage, Mrs. Quagmire nodded.

"All my things are already at Hogwarts." explained Piper, staring at the brick wall with determination.

"Alright, go!"

This was it, he was officially leaving the muggle world and all its nuisances. He couldn't help but feel a jolt of excitement as he ran through the barrier. All of a sudden the atmosphere changed. It was much more alive and bearable.

A wrought-iron archway stood before him with the words Platform Nine and Three Quarters. Many, like Piper, were already dressed in their Hogwarts robes. There were many Trolleys stationed here and there filled with wacky items. He could tell that everyone chose to shop at Diagon Alley, recognizing the many whimsical objects he eyed while his stay there.

A girl or a boy, Tom could not tell, was showing off his or her Silver Arrow broomstick among a group of dumb-struck looking friends. "It's the latest model!" he or she said in a unisex voice.

At his feet, a cat chewed on his shoes. He attempted to shoo it away but it returned and proceeded to chew.

"Get off!" said Tom but it did not scram.

A small boy with blonde hair approached him and picked the cat up by the skin of its neck. "Sorry about that. It's my sisters." the boy said.

He held out a pale and skinny hand. "Name's Avery." he introduced himself.

"Tom." said Tom, shaking his hand.

Avery was examining Tom's second hand clothes and second hand luggage. A few corners of Tom's possessions were patched or frayed. But instead of giving a prideful and disgusted look, Avery showed sympathy.

"You know you should get going and pack your things." said Avery who gestured a hand for Tom to follow him towards the train.

Before Tom followed, he looked around for Piper. There was no sign of her frizzy pony-tailed hair. She must have already entered the train.

Avery had lead him to an empty compartment. All the other carriages were crowded. He helped Tom load his luggage up the steps. Avery had suggested he changed into his Hogwarts robes. So while Tom was digging through his luggage, he shielded Avery's view from seeing the clutter of his second hand things. Tom had changed into his robes and pocketed his yew wand.

The scarlet steam engine hooted. Tom seated himself next to the window and looked dully out of it. Avery took the seat in front of him.

From beyond the window there were parents kissing their children goodbye. Only the younger students were crying.

"So," said Avery, interrupting Tom's drifting thoughts. "It's my first year too. But I have an older sister and it's her seventh and last year at Hogwarts."

"Have you asked her what it's like?" asked Tom, still peering out the window.

"She said it's really big and they have stairs that move and portraits that talk, and everything." said Avery in a rush of excitement.

"Portraits that talk? And by moving stairs, do you mean they have escalators?" engaged Tom.

"What are escalators? Never heard of that before." said Avery, looking confused.

"Never mind." said Tom. The train whistled and advanced on. Many arms stretched from their compartment windows waving goodbye until their parents were out of sight. Tom even saw one of them apparate.

The compartment door slammed open. Piper entered their carriage and sat next to Tom. But she also brought with her a boy with dark curly hair who sat next to Avery. He seemed very egotistic and it was as if his mother spent hours on his appearance.

"I'm Lestrange. Edmond Lestrange." said the new boy proudly. Whilst everyone introduced themselves, the compartment door slid open once more.

A petite kind nature faced woman appeared with a cart full of food, a majority of which were sweets. "Anything from the trolley?" she beamed at them.

Lestrange stood up looking very pleased with himself and said, "Four of everything, please."

Once the lady left and their goodies were assembled together in one corner, everyone except Tom reached eagerly from the pile.

"Thanks." said Avery, mouthful of licorice.

"No problem. I am very capable, financially." replied Lestrange who was opening a blue box embroidered with gold that had the words Chocolate Frog on it.

To Tom's surprise a life-like frog jumped out of the box and onto his lap. Lestrange made a quick grab for it and bit off its head.

"That's not a real frog, is it?" asked Tom.

Lestrange swallowed before he spoke, "Wait, you mean to tell me you're a muggleborn?"

"He is." said Piper, instead who was trying to catch her own frog.

"What?" said Tom, offended. "I don't know what I am but I'm certainly not the offspring of those kind of- - -"

"You were born in a muggle orphanage!" said Piper. Tom did not like how she puts up his business like that.

"My parents could have easily been a witch and wizard." said Tom desperately. "I was already good at magic before I even knew I had it."

"Well," Lestrange began. "There is still a chance you're a half-blood. And even if you're a muggle born, I like the way you think." he said, holding out a hand.

Hesitantly, Tom shook it. "I can speak to snakes." Tom couldn't help but offer up. Dumbledore had briefly mentioned that it was a rare gift.

Piper choked on her chocolate frog. "You never told me that!" she said.

"Then you must be a pureblood." said Lestrange who held out his hands again. Tom accepted the gesture, he noticed that Lestrange's handshake was much more enthusiastic this time.

A surge of relief flooded his body. "That trait can only exist in purebloods, I'm sure." said Avery staring at Tom with awe.

It seemed, Avery, Lestrange, and Pipers brazen smug attitudes were already rubbing off on him.


	5. Row, Row

**_Chapter_ FOUR:** _Row, Row_

* * *

Tom didn't want to admit it, but he was genuinely enjoying himself. It was a new feeling. It wasn't that delight was an unfamiliar feeling to him . He had had some grand old times causing mayhem to those obnoxious caretakers. Even more satisfying was that they never discovered it was his doing. It was a different form of enjoyment he never knew existed.

As he sat there with Piper, Avery, and Lestrange, from another persons perspective it may have looked like they were a group of friends. Friends. Tom never had friends, he never needed them. To him it was a form of weakness. This bothered him for the majority of the train ride but as a freckled first year came to their compartment and announced that they should be 'home' in ten minutes time, he brushed the matter aside.

It had already grown so dark.

"Have any of you heard how the Headmaster's like?" Piper asked as she peered out the window as far as she could see for any sign of Hogwarts, having just finished a conversation about how Muggles could manage with such boring surroundings. Tom had said, from his own experience, that it was like torture.

"Not much. I just heard that he was balding." said Avery, nonchalantly licking a pumpkin shaped lollipop.

Piper let out a muffled sigh. "I was hoping he was young and handsome." she said. "Are there at least any young professors there?"

Edmund grinned and blushed slightly, "Well," he began. "There is this one who's easy on the eyes that I met through my parents."

"Thank goodness!" exclaimed Piper. "At least I know I won't be failing one class."

The train rumbled and rattled, causing Avery's lollipop to fall out of his hands and didn't seem at all disappointed.

"Wow, I never knew you were like that, Piper." said Edmund, looking uneasy.

"What are you talking about?" Piper said glancing at everyone's faces to see if Edmund was even referring to her regardless to that he had just mentioned her name.

"About girls, I mean." Edmund said, almost whispering.

"Wh- Oh! So the professor you're talking about is a_ girl_?" she stammered, shaking her head, "No, no, no, no, no!"

Edmund bore a look of surprise, "Wait, if you thought I was speaking of a male professor, then- - -" he stuttered furiously, "Then- then you were implying that I'm- - -!"

"Well_ I'm_ for one as straight as a railroad!" Piper clarified.

"Railroads curve." said Tom smartly in an undertone, who was looking out the window the whole time. No one seemed to hear him as there was no reaction.

Piper jumped out of her seat exclaiming, "I see something! We're here! We're here!" she banged her fists on the windows.

'Calm down." Tom said, feeling bothered by her exaggerated excitement. But as a glum and expressionless voice reverberated throughout the whole train saying, "Should be there in five minutes. Leave your things because well, you know why.", Tom found himself standing abruptly on his two feet. The disembodied voice let out a huge sigh.

"Are you alright?" asked Piper.

Tom looked pale, which was saying something since he was already so ghostly. He had just realized he had stood up. "Yeah," he said, sitting back down.

"What're you sitting for?" said Piper who stood up in unison with Avery and Edmund. "Let's go!"

They all left their carriage to join the gathering file of excited juveniles. Soon the train became very sluggish and finally came to a halt. Tom wondered if he was the only one feeling this way. His insides were a mix of assorted feelings. He couldn't quite name them all but he was sure nervousness was in there. But strangely, pride too.

Following the line, but lost in childish worries, he didn't notice he was already so near the exit. So as he unknowingly stepped off the train, he felt swept by the sudden drop of temperatures. It was a chilly cool night.

Beyond the darkness emerged a wobbling ball of light. As it came closer, it appeared to be a short, thin, balding man holding a lit wand. He looked like the happiest man in the world. His expression was sickly sweet.

"Hello!" the man beamed at the crowd. "Call me Ogg. But any nickname you might come up with is preferable. Walter is my personal favorite."

Ogg turned from the crowd and began to skip. "Follow me!" he instructed happily. They followed Ogg through a narrow path, surrounded with nothing but darkness. Moments sooner, they were introduced to a great black, glimmering lake.

Tom saw a tentacle barely rise up from the water and sunk back in again. Then he noticed by the reflecting properties of the lake, an immense castle. He looked up and as he marveled at the towering castle before him, he felt a twinge of _deja vu_ as if he'd been here before. Perhaps in a day dream.

Tom looked right of the river and found rows of rowboats. "No more than four in a boat!" Ogg shouted happily at the rest of them. He smiled at a rather well fed first year. "You count as two." he said to him, continuing to smile as if he had not just insulted the little boy. Tom caught Piper snickering in the background.

The rowboats proceeded, carrying a calm set of first years. They were all hushed by nerves. "Merlin's beard." said the boy next to Tom in a whisper.

"Duck!" shouted the game keeper. They bent their little heads as the stream carried them through dark tunnels from which seemed to be an earth made dungeon of the castle. When they reached the harbor, Ogg left his rowboat and proceeded up a hill-like passageway of rocks. The children followed suit.

They climbed up silver wet stones until they reached the entrance of the castle. Ogg thundered on the door thrice with his right foot. The oak doors opened and revealed a tall man in starry robes and an auburn beard.

"I see you found your way alright." said Professor Dumbledore, more to Tom than to anyone else.

* * *

_**AN:** I solemnly swear that I will update more often._


	6. Bawling Basta

**_Chapter_ FIVE**: _Bawling Basta_

* * *

The children stepped into the castle far from being a straight file.

"Well, you know what to do!" Ogg beamed at Dumbledore. "Nasty case of Bundimuns I've been meaning to get to."

Dumbledore returned a smile as bright as Ogg's that is was almost mocking him. "It's not that I lack confidence in you, Walter." he said. "But if it were me, I would contact the Pet Sub-Division. Getting rid of an infestation of that magnitude is a nasty task."

Ogg bowed his balding head, shiny from the flaming torches. "Alright, sir!" he said joyfully, and he turned around and out the castle, skipping to his designation.

After Ogg disappeared completely in the darkness of the night, Dumbledore clapped his hand in efforts to avert the attention back to him. They had just been watching Ogg leave since every little thing seemed so intriguing now. The man had a very intimidating yet pleasant aura. All eyes were on him.

"Welcome to Hogwarts." he began. "We shall expect a great seven years ahead. Before long, you shall be sorted into your houses. But I should stress that our differences should not set us apart. We shall always aim for house unity, and not only in the toughest of times when it's convenient. Although the classification of your house is vastly significant in your stay here. For it is where we will most likely find lifelong bonds from our similar interests. There, you will also fight together for the house cup that is rewarded every year to the house with the most points. Naturally, your noble work is to be rewarded and any rule breaking, penalized. Although, many have been fooled by the illusion of four separate houses. For who can find such friends with Gryffindors and Slytherins? Or a settled debate between a Hufflepuff and a Ravenclaw? Try to brush off the stereotypes you are about to be deluded with when you step into your dorms tonight and we'll see where it goes. I trust that you are all starved? The trolley food is never quite fulfilling. I'm guessing my incessant rambling isn't helping. You shall have your feast after you have been sorted."

Dumbledore turned and made his way to another oak front door and the crowd followed him. "You shall wait here until further notice." he said, holding up a hand. The sound of shuffling feet ceased and were exchanged by sighs and an upsurge of anxious whispers.

Piper lumbered her way through the crowd with Avery and Edmund and found their way to Tom. "S'matter with you?" Tom asked Piper, who was looking very clammy.

"What if we're sorted into different houses?" she spluttered. "I've already made friends and it's hard for me to make friends. I don't wanna have to start over. My mother said I'm too rude and unpleasant to be around with."

Avery placed a reassuring hand on her shoulders and gave her a boyish smile. "It's alright. I'm confident we'll be in the same house. And like that old man said, doesn't matter if we're in different houses anyways, eh? As long as you're not in Gryffindor, Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw, that is" he added bitterly, contradicting himself.

"What do they say is the best house?" Tom wondered out loud.

"All my family's been in Slytherin." Piper, Avery, and Edmund said in unison. They grinned at the coincidence.

"Is that house any good?" Tom asked, unsure. Piper, Avery, and Edmund weren't quite the brightest bunch.

"Well, I heard _Merlin_ was sorted into that house." whispered Avery in an awed undertone.

"It is the best house, because it filters out all the dirty blood." Edmund pointed out, proudly. He turned to Tom. "Where you are sorted today should determine the beginning or end of our friendship." he added.

Infuriated, Tom could not keep up with it any longer. He did not care for their friendship. It never existed to being with. He could have blasted Edmund through the wall with no need of an incantation right then and there. For only Tom Riddle, he thought to himself, could be capable of such an impressive feat. He was set for blasting him into the wall until, to Tom's dismay, Dumbledore returned. "The ceremony is about to begin!" his enthusiastic voice boomed throughout the entrance hall.

Tom unballed his fists and relaxed his face muscles. They filed into a single line upon Dumbledore's orders. But once again were delayed by another obstacle. About three more than a dozen ghosts emerged from the high ceiling. It had suddenly gone so cold.

A melancholy tune erupted from no where. The ghosts silver-grey bodies danced to the music. The crowd remained silent and rooted to the ground. And finally ending with a sad and graceful swing, strut, sway, spin, skip, and step, they stopped and bowed ceaselessly expecting an applause. But the crowd remained silent.

"Well?" said a ghost in an airy, delicate tone. He sported a ruff and uncomfortable looking tights.

"How depressing." said Piper, spiritlessly.

"Excuse me?" said a harassed fat ghost. "Do you know how long we've prepared for this, Missy? Well! I hope I won't be seeing you in _my_ house."

Piper looked fired up, "What do I look like wanting t- - -!"

"Salutations! My name is Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington." the ghost in the tights interrupted, in efforts to stop a possible feud "Forgive the Fat Friar here. After centuries of not eating another cake he can get mildly irritated." he whispered to the crowd.

"Ahem." coughed Dumbledore. "The ceremony is beginning."

The first years walked towards him. "Straight file." Dumbledore directed. "Now follow me."

Tom's legs became stiff and Edmund didn't look so composed anymore. They entered the Great Hall and shared delightful oohs and awe's. Above them, a starry night sky with hundreds of taper candles lit and levitating in mid air. Under the envelope of the dark velvet sky stood four long rows of tables laden with twinkling gold plates and goblets.

Professor Dumbledore placed a spindly stool in front of them. On top of it was an ancient hat. Because of the insignificance of such discarded looking objects, the first years gasped as the hat was personified and sung through its mouth. Even Tom held his breath.

.

_"To this day, a mirrored past_

_But listen well and maybe we can break the glass:"_

_._

_Founders of the Hogwarts, four_

_Thought quarrel to be no more_

_Till a dispute erupted_

_And their friendships were gutted_

_From disagreements of who's worthy to walk through that door."_

_._

_(Of Hogwarts School)_

_Who's the fool of fools?"_

_._

_Stout and gallant was the lion_

_Boast its crest, and heaved its chest_

_Valued bravery above the rest_

_Its order in peril, but in all, everlasting_

_Debouched our mascot, shameless of its casting"_

_._

_Shameless of I, he plucked from his crown_

_Futzing with a tattered hat_

_Till I was able to make a sound"_

_._

_I perched at a dusty old bookshelf_

_And I had kept the order array_

_Till the day that the cobra arrived_

_And entitled war at our bay"_

_._

_He who slithers whilst the sun sleeps_

_Wore its hooding way too proud_

_For a moment the four were confidant_

_Till the cobras decrees became loud"_

_._

_And the eagle rejected and a war was erected_

_And honors were plucked on both sides_

_Cause the cobra decided, for his own that he plighted,_

_Achieve conquest by evenings low tide"_

_._

_Till the onset of the badgers hunt,_

_The cobra had finally retreated_

_Still wearing his hood way up high,_

_'Never shall I be defeated!'"_

_._

_But he left that one day and tensions were incredibly sad_

_For how can unity exist when a quarter of apples gone bad?"_

_._

_To this day, a mirrored past,_

_For a thousand years and counting, it has last"_

_._

_Gryffindor, the purple hearted_

_Have always made the matters worse,_

_Though never has he parted"_

_._

_Ravenclaw, the sense in all the madness_

_Accepted those of wise and witted_

_With gratitude and gladness"_

_._

_Hufflepuff, the calm within the storm_

_Offered loyalty to anyone within the norm"_

_._

_And the snakes, they're Slytherin and,_

_They will be chasing you through your end"_

_._

_They chose their students on their own_

_But time was evanescent_

_And before you knew it, one by one_

_Passed beneath a midnight crescent_

_Twas Gryffindor,_

_who plucked me from his head_

_So slip me on (I will not bite)_

_And I will choose instead_

_._

_To this day, a mirrored past,_

_For a thousand years and counting, it has last_

_When founders of the Hogwarts, four_

_Thought quarrel to be no more_

_Who's worthy to walk through that door?_

_(Of Hogwarts School)_

_Who's the fool of fools?"_

_._

_To this day, a mirrored past_

_But if you've listened well, perhaps we can break the glass_"

All around the people cheered. The hat bowed until the crowd had regained their calm. "Excellent." praised Dumbledore. He slipped a scroll of parchment from his sleeves. "Now, I shall call you by your name and you shall sit on this stool and be sorted. Quite simple. Anodendron, Gemma?"

A girl with the fairest skin cowered her way up to the stool. She's definitely not going to Gryffindor, Tom thought to himself. Dumbledore placed the hat on her head and at once the Sorting Hat said, "RAVENCLAW!"

The Ravenclaw table cheered loudest among the others. A fifth year by the name of Miranda Goshak greeted her gratefully. It didn't seem too bad, Tom thought. The sorting hat was usually so quick to decide, it was like slamming the door to a stringed tooth. Two more girls had gone up which seemed to be triplets of the first girl who had gone. Emma and Pemma were both sorted into Gryffindor unlike their other duplicate.

"Avery, Augustus!"

"SLYTHERIN!"

Behind Tom, he heard Piper 'whoop!"

"Beadle, Susy!" The awkward young girl smiled at Tom as she passed.

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

Susy ran past Tom and blushed furiously as she took her designated seat at Hufflepuff's table. "I think you've got an admirer." whispered Piper to his ear. He could tell that she was almost laughing. Tom saw the girl shoot a bitter look at Piper. Thankfully, Piper had not seen this.

Soon they were down to the G's. "Grant, Gregory!"

"GRYFFINDOR!'

Then the I's. "Illiad, Frank!"

"Got to be...RAVENCLAW!"

Tom's stomach leaped every time they went higher up the alphabet. R's were so close by now.

"Lestrange, Edmund!"

Piper crossed her fingers. "SLYTHERIN!"

Edmund could not look any more prouder.

Before Tom knew it, they were now on the Q's.

"Quagmire, Dennis"

Tom recalled the short haired lady who escorted him to the train earlier in the day. Mrs. Quagmire had said something about escorting her son. But even if he had not known his last name, he could of easily guessed they were related. They had replica eyes and noses and sported the same haughty facial expression.

"GRYFFINDOR!"

Finally, Dumbledore looked at his list and before a two second pause he said, "Riddle, Tom?"

His intestines were tangled inside of him. What if he were placed in Hufflepuff? He thought they were a rather weird bunch. He sat on the stool, but before he even felt the hat touched his head, the hat shouted: "SLYTHERIN!"

Perhaps Tom was only imagining it, but Dumbledore clapped less enthusiastically for his sorting than he did for the others.

Tom jogged up to his table and was overwhelmed by a crowd of welcoming students. A blonde haired sixth year, shook his hand. "Dorea Black." she introduced herself. "Welcome to Slytherin!" Before he sat in between two second year students, Walburga and Lucretia Black, he saw a twinkle in Dumbledore's eye shot back at him. Edmund had shook his hand. He wasn't a muggleborn after all.

"Rosier, Ivan!"

"SLYTHERIN!" The light brown haired boy sat across Tom.

"Stallion, Yoni!"

"Better be...HUFFLEPUFF!"

Three more students later, it was Piper's turn. "Toddlemore, Piper!"

Slightly trembling, she placed the hat on her head.

"You think I look funny, eh?" said the Sorting Hat out loud. Piper kept staring nervously at Tom, Edmund, and Avery. "Fine, I'll give you what you want. Better be, SLYTHERIN!"

Piper jumped from the stool and ran to the Slytherin table. She had forgotten to place the Sorting Hat back. So Dumbledore took out his wand and shouted, "_Accio_!"

The first years went 'ooooh' as the hat flew black into Dumbledore's grasp.

By now everybody was starving. So it was a great relief when they finally hit the last letter of the alphabet after five students, including the freckled first year were sorted.

"Zdravkov, Basta!"  
A burly and wired haired boy came up. He could have passed as a seventh year.

"SLYTHERIN!"

That was the last of it. Dumbledore waved his wand and the stool and hat disappeared.

A man with a thick white beard called attention to himself. "Welcome!" he said. "I am Headmaster, Armando Dippet! I hope to see a good year with all of you newcomers and natives alike. I have quite a few things to say, but for now, let us eat!"

Dippet opened his arms wide and suddenly, their gold plates and goblets were extravagantly laden with a plethora of food. Tom had never seen so much food at once. He wondered if his stomach had the capability of storing so much. He wanted to try everything from the boiled potatoes, chicken and ham pie, roast beef, roast chicken, turkey legs, bacon, steak, beef casserole, sprouts, sausages, pork chops, lamb chops, stew, salad, and maybe if he could stomach it: fried crickets dipped in gravy. The orphanage had trained his stomach into holding so little for all of his life.

Tom could not name all that he ate. All he understood at that moment was that the orphanages cooking was horrible as he stuffed food into his mouth.

"Waryoo doin'?." said Piper next to him who scooted one of the Blacks out of the way to sit beside him.

"Excuse me?" said Tom.

"What're you doing?" she said after swallowing.

"I've gone fishing." he said sarcastically, grabbing a baked potato.

"Schmatter wer you?" Piper asked the burly first year in front of her, mouthful of shepherds pie.

Basta Zdravkov appeared very crestfallen and had not touched his plate. He looked at her but did not respond.

"What's the matter?" Piper repeated herself. "You know it's rude not to respond when somebody is speaking to you. My mother always sai- - -"

"You know is vude to sveak wiv your mot fool." interrupted Basta in a heavy accent.

"Don't play smart with me, little boy." Piper taunted, even though Basta was clearly twice her size.

"You peepole know nuffin!" he exclaimed, tears streaming from his face. He was causing quite a scene. "My vather is vlocked in Nurmengard and now vey lookin vor my matha. And all you peepole eat like efrything is vine. Das was da mattar!" he spat.

"Nurmengard?" asked the blonde haired sixth year, Dorea Black. "That doesn't_ really_ exist, does it?"

"How vare you!" Basta shouted. "My matha sent me heer cause eet is very much vreal! Nurmengard is very much vreal cause Grindelwald is very much vreal!"

"Excuse me." said another voice. Basta turned around in shock and found that Dumbledore was standing behind him. Tom took note of how fast and unexpected he came up there. "What seems to be the matter here?"

"Basta's upset." Piper explained.

Dumbledore placed a hand on Basta's shoulders. "If you'd like, I could send you to your dorm. If you do not wish to eat, that is."

Basta nodded.

"Dorea, if you could, please escort Basta to the dungeons." Dumbledore instructed.

"Alright, Professor."

"And Basta," Dumbledore shouted after them when they were halfway out the Great Hall. "Would you mind never mentioning his name again? Around me, at least." he said in a rather sad tone.

"Yes, Vrofessor." and they left.

Everyone looked back at their plate when the scene had died out to find that their dishes were exchanged with desserts. Cubes of Jelly, dollops of ice cream, rounds and rolls of doughnuts, a pie of every fruit, and treacle tart at every corner.

But Tom was already full and he did not have much of a sweet tooth so he did not eat.

After the course of desserts were cleaned magically from their plates, Headmaster Dippet called out again. "Now, the few start of terms notices I must give you. First years, listen up. The rest of you, at least pretend to listen. The Forbidden Forest is, as its name suggests, forbidden. And all Silver Arrow broomsticks are banned from Hogwarts grounds for the time being."

The person Tom saw at Platform Nine and Three Quarters who looked neither a boy or a girl screamed, "HOW COME?" Many more shared his or her dismay by grunting and booing.

Tom recalled that he or she was showing off his or her Silver Arrow. Dippet responded, "Don't any of you read Which Broomstick? The whole lot of them's been recalled. We don't want Madam Sanare to have a big case about it in the hospital wing, now do we? Anyways, that is all. Bedtime!"

"Wait, Headmaster Dippet!" said Dumbledore after everyone was on their feet. "We haven't sung the Hogwarts song!"

"Is it really _that_ necessary, Albus?" Dippet said tiredly.

"Why certainly! Music is a magic beyond all we do here."

"Alright, if you insist." Dippet waved his wand lazily, summoning ribbons of words high in the air. "Pick your favorite tune, everybody. Now, go!"

The hall burst into song:

"Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts,  
Teach us something please,  
Whether we be old and bald  
Or young with scabby knees,  
Our heads could do with filling  
With some interesting stuff,  
For now they're bare and full of air,  
Dead flies and bits of fluff,  
So teach us things worth knowing,  
Bring back what we've forgot,  
just do your best, we'll do the rest,  
And learn until our brains all rot."

When everyone finished on their own pace, they left the Great Hall. A seventh year assisted the Slytherins. Whilst everyone went up the stairs near the entrance hall, the Slytherins took a different route. Tom looked up to see that the stairs were _moving_. It seemed _their_ dorms were located in the dungeons. Soon they stopped in front of a stone wall.

"Attention, everybody!" said the seventh year boy, his back to the stone wall. "You must never slip our passwords to anyone outside our house. Passwords are subject to change every fortnight, which you shall find on the noticeboard. The password for the time being is, _Purus Sanguis_."

As he spoke the last two words, the stone wall opened to reveal a dimly lit room. Three green orbs hung form the ceiling, giving the place a grand and cold atmosphere. The green leaned armchairs were embellished with intricate patterns, buttons, and skulls. Cup boards were made of shiny ebony and a silver chandelier which resembled a snake dangled way up high and descended low.

"Why are there windows if we're in the dungeons?" Piper wondered out loud.

"Interesting question," said a sixth year. "Goodnight." and he left.

Piper looked out the window and exclaimed, "Tom, come look!"

It was an underwater view of The Great Black Lake. Far ahead, in a misty, blurry green, he could decipher with his eyes, a giant squid. Perhaps it was the same one he saw briefly earlier that evening.

They were sent to their dorms, which separated boys and girls. Tom laid down after a long day and fell asleep almost instantly on the soft green mattress and to the sound of the lake. (Prefects were upgraded to water beds.) His belongings were placed at the end of his feet. But before he dozed off, he saw Basta asleep clutching a newspaper of _The Daily Prophet_. Perhaps the same issue he saw that day at the Leaky Cauldron.

It had a picture of an elder man with blue eyes. He had a very tall nose and wrinkled face, with the slightest trace of his handsome youth. "The Crimes of Grindelwald." it read.

"_Would you mind never mentioning his name again? Around me, at least._" Dumbledore had said.

Tom remembered something a character once said in a book, "Fear of the name is fear of the thing itself." And to that, Tom fell asleep wondering what 'Crimes' would Grindelwald have to have done to arise the fear of someone as 'great' (or so they say) as Albus Dumbledore.


	7. Perplexing Poem

**_Chapter_ SIX:** _Perplexing Poem_

* * *

"IF YOU DON'T GET OUT OF BED THIS INSTANCE YOUNG LADY, I WILL FEED YOU LACEWING FLIES FOR A WHOLE WEEK!"

"What was that?" Tom asked, quite disoriented.

"It's what my mother says to me whenever_ she_ tries to wake me up." Piper shrugged.

Basta was oversleeping and Tom was ordered to awake him by a Slytherin prefect. Of course, Piper offered to tag along.

She began to whack him on the back with a bat. "MERLIN'S LEFT BALL SA- - -!"

"I'm avwake!" Basta whined from under his pillow. After twenty minutes of fruitless bellowing, Basta finally got up from his bed.

"_Come on._ We haven't got all day!" Piper rushed as Basta attempted to put on a sock.

"Just leaf vithout me. I'll catch up."

Piper began to meddle in his belongings. She held up a folded letter in the air, "Oooh, a love note?" she teased. She got to unfolding the corners but Basta was quick to grab it.

"From my matha. Eet took a vhole month to get here." he said, holding the letter to his chest.

"Where are you from again?" Tom asked.

"Bulgaria." he frowned at the name.

"Then why didn't you go to Durmstrang?" Piper said with a hint of jealousy, "I've always wanted to go."

"Durmstrang?" Tom wondered out loud. "There are others?"

"No vway am I going to vat school. No vway am I stepping anyvwhere Grindelwald vonce stood. Is contaminated vy his vreath." Basta said, every last word bloated with loathing.

Of course there had to be others, Tom thought. How could he have been so close minded?

"Just leaf vithout me. I'll catch up." Basta repeated. Tom had wanted to ask him about this seemingly infamous man by the name of Grindelwald but decided it was not the perfect time. Perhaps after class he could weasel it out of Basta if he plucked the right strings. But for now, he compensated by borrowing (or rather stealing) Basta's copy of the Daily Prophet from his bedside table.

Tom and Piper walked together through the common room and out the cold stone walls to find the awkward young girl settled there.

"What're you here for? This is the_ Slytherin_ hallways." Piper said to the Hufflepuff first year, Susy Beadle.

Susy would not look Piper straight in the eye. She looked at Tom as she said to Piper, "I'm waiting for Basta." she blushed.

"What for?" Piper interrogated. "What's a Slytherin have to do with a Hufflepuff?"

"He helped me up when I tripped yesterday on the platform. I wanted to express my gratitude." Susy said timidly, still looking at Tom who was for the moment fiddling with his quills and rolls of parchment. He could not stand her blatant staring.

"Right." Piper said, unnaturally happy. "Of course that's what you're here for." she elbowed Tom on the stomach. He glared angrily at her.

"Let's go, Piper." Tom finalized, and they left Susy alone looking quite disenchanted.

It was a strenuous task to find their way into their classes. The stairs moved on their own and Tom hadn't quite memorized the patterns. After eighteen exhausting flights, however, he thought it didn't have any patterns at all but just that it had a mind of its own and took pleasure in teasing him.

"How far longer?" Piper panted from behind.

All of a sudden Tom was engulfed in a gush of ice cold. Emerging from him was a wide faced ghost with mischief written all over his grin. (This was the ghost that had given them directions of where to go.)

"You still haven't caught on have you?" said the ghost in a sing song voice. The twiddling of his fingers and attempt at the puppy dog eyes, which reminded Tom of a child and a pushover parent did not fool them.

"Peeves, you son of a banshee!" Piper howled. "You did_ not_ just make me walk a hundred flight of stairs! And to think that I helped you with- - - !"

"What's the matter here?" came another voice. Peeves chuckled and vanished from sight.

Dumbledore came descending from the stairs carrying a jar of pin needles. "Do I detect foul mouthed-ness?" he asked.

"Uh, um..." blood started to rush to Piper's face.

Dumbledore laughed, "It's quite alright." he said, "I understand your frustration with Peeves. He thought it'd be funny to hide this jar of needles and enclose it with an imperturbable charm, making a summoning spell useless. So I had to go and walk there myself to get it."

Piper behaved oddly and couldn't look Dumbledore fully in the eye. She pulled a Tom and began to fiddle with her quills and rolls of parchment. He heard her mumble something about a missing assignment under her breath. Which in his opinion, was a terrible show of diversion to whatever it was she was trying to hide, as they have not had any classes yet.

"That spell you used during the sorting..." Tom said.

"Sharp observation, Tom!" smiled Dumbledore. "If I'm not mistaken, you two are looking for the History of Magic classroom?"

"Yes sir." Tom said, expressionlessly.

"Well, follow me." said Dumbledore and they followed him down the stairs in awkward silence.

"What do you need needles for?" Piper asked in attempt to break away from the silence, her voice quavering. "They're muggle items aren't they? What good are they to a wizard?"

"Well you just answered the question yourself." Dumbledore explained enthusiastically. "Because it is a nonessential item, it is a good dummy to practice on for beginners Transfiguration. So should you flounder, which a majority of first years do, it's barely a dent on our expenses."

They were now on the first landing. "Well, I believe this is where I leave you. Classroom 4F should just be down the hall and left." Dumbledore sighed. "I hope you've fared well on your first day in the wizarding world, Tom."

By then Piper had already excused herself 'to find good seats'. He was left alone with Dumbledore.

"Yes, Professor." Tom said in a neutral tone.

But before he left for the classroom, Dumbledore told him, "Do me a favor Tom and exercise some conduct into Piper." he laughed. "I knew it was she who assisted Peeves in that scheme of hiding my jar of needles. Thought she could escape from work on the first day!"

"How do you know?" Tom asked, careful not to blink.

Dumbledore ignored his question. "One more thing, I should stress that Basta is not quite emotionally ready yet to tell you his story. Please take it into consideration." his voice was soft.

But that wasn't the only question he had in mind. For a moment they stood there, eye to eye._ Careful not to blink_. But as soon as he opened his mouth to speak, Dumbledore cut him off.

"And neither am I." then left silently.

Toms eyes began to burn. He noticed the same twinkle in Dumbledore's eyes before he left.

Tom entered the classroom. It was a very dull accented room. Tom could have mistook it as a muggle office if he didn't know better. He took the seat Piper saved for him. (Or rather, bullied another first year to leave their seat as there was the freckled first year from the train ride sitting glumly on the floor due to the lack of any more tables.)

Their teacher had not yet arrived. Everybody was already settled there, getting to know one another in low whispers. Piper began her story of how her Great Uncle Albert, (or Bertie, as he's nicknamed) lost a foot in Egypt and found it a month later hidden under his mattress. Tom fabricated his interest by nodding absentmindedly. Meanwhile, he pondered on the fact that Dumbledore knew what he knew. Maybe he could read minds, he thought. A shiver went up his spine at this thought. Could he ever be comfortable in his presence?

A stout ghost appeared from the chalkboard. Unluckily, before his timely death, his hair was in its most unflattering stage with a wispy patch on the back of his eighty-seven percent bald head. He could have been better off completely bald.

Without introducing himself, he took a stub of chalk and wrote on the chalkboard in eloquent penmanship:

_Cuthbert Binns_

_ History of Magic_

And in even bolder letters:

_**The Trails of Jenga the Great**_

Professor Binns opened his notebook and began to recite out loud in the most monotonous tone, "Due to the cries of the Red Order and the general public, in 64 B.C. arose The Trials of Jenga the Great. Its predecessor, The Trials of Harry the Magnificent was dwarfed in comparison to the legacy The Trials of Jenga the Great brought forth."

Tom listened for a moment until he realized that he had already read through this passage in his time alone in the orphanage. So he busied himself to read the newspaper he extracted from Basta's bedside table. Piper was passing notes with Avery across the classroom, giggling every now and again.

The front page read:

**DARKEST WIZARD OF ALL TIME NEARS OUR MIDST**

**WHO IS GELLERT GRINDELWALD?**

_Many of you may be unfamiliar with the name, Gellert Grindelwald. Well, "Not any longer!" said an enraged Minister Ottaline Gambol last Sunday evening. "It is important we stay alert and vigilant! Grindelwald is not a light case! We must be cautious so we will not be dragged in any further into their foreign affairs!" _

_You may ask, what is all the big fuss over a man who's name sounds like a 5th century dragon manure brand? Well, all the lighthearted comedy aside, Grindelwald is noted the Darkest Wizard of All Time by the Bulgarian, Romanian, and Hungarian Ministry of Magic. The list is predicted to compile much more in the future. _

_Minister Gambol was left heartbroken yesterday evening to discover the death of his eagle owl of 63 years. All that was left was ashes on the bottom of its cage with a slip of paper found concealed under the ashes that read: For the Greater Good._

_Who other than Gellert Grindewald, who is rumored to have built a prison to hold his enemies, called Nurmengard with the slogan "For the greater good", could have done this? _

_Perhaps this is a childish prank to arise apprehension (in the minds of the distorted) for good ol' fun? Minister Gambol says otherwise. That although this is the very first sign and rather blurry suspicion of having anything to do with Grindelwald, Minister Gambol takes this account very seriously and encourages you too as well. The minister instructed for this matter to appear in the front page today, which is why you are reading about Gellert Grindelwald, and not about how the Puddlemere United's team captain is resigning due to severe abdominal problems._

_Now, upon the request of the Ministry, Gellert Grindelwald was born in Hungary of 1882. Brilliantly talented and gifted! His old professors absolutely raved about his work. Grindelwald was described as a very handsome lad in the days of his youth. All of which may forecast into a bright future. But what eventually led him to become so evil? He was expelled by the young age of sixteen from Durmstrang Institue by practicing magic too heinous, even for a school that has a loose tolerance over the Dark Arts. His dark-magic-practices and eventual murder on over 300 cats, is a popular story that has been circulating around at the moment._

_He is known to enact a 'muggle killing spree' every three months which has resulted in the murders of 106 muggles thus far, in a span of two and a half years. His motives are for the moment, unknown. Although - - -_

"Gregory Fiddle?" Professor Binns interrupted him. "Is that right?"

"Excuse me, sir?" his voice almost cracked due to his frustration.

"I was calling role. I had forgotten to, earlier in the class." Professor Binns said. His voice was very distant and frail. "Are you Mr. Gregory Fiddle?"

"Tom Riddle." he corrected him.

"Alright, Bob Diddle." Professor Binns said. "Thank you."

Tom figured it would have been useless to correct him any further. Professor Binns floated his way to Piper and looked down at his roll sheet. "And you are Miss Flora Winterfresh?"

But Piper was already fast asleep. She let out a soft snore which Binns mistook as a 'yes.'

"Alright, Miss Winterfresh, jolly to meet you." he continued to every table until he had consulted every student.

"Did I hear a bell?" he shouted in a distant voice, although there had not been any sound except for the snores of various students and shuffling of feet. "Off you go!" he said.

Everyone looked at each other. They were all wondering the same thing. Should they take his wax filled ears and poor memory into advantage? But as Tom stood up, everybody followed suit. He gently tapped Piper on the shoulder. "No lacewing flies." she whined, he voice muffled by her arms.

"We have a free-half period." he said to her. He nudged her once more but she did not move. Avery came by and dropped a book on her head, but she did not even shudder.

"Shout something about lacewing flies." Tom instructed.

"LACEWING FLIES!" Avery bellowed.

And right at that moment, Piper awoke from her deep nap, "NO!" she screamed, almost terrified. She looked around her and asked, "Where did everybody go?"

The classroom was empty except for them and Professor Binns, who was now sleeping snugly on his desk.

"The teacher dismissed us early." said Avery.

"Oh." she said, with her eyes still drooping. "Where should we go, then?" she yawned.

"I'm heading to the library." announced Tom.

"How fun." Piper said sarcastically, rubbing her eyes.

Avery swung his bag to his back in a cool like fashion. "Well, while you're off studying on the first day, I'm going to try out my Silver Arrow broomstick on the Quidditch Field."

"But I thought first years weren't allowed brooms, let alone Silver Arrows. Didn't the headmaster say- - -?"

"And?" Avery argued.

"How did you get it past the inspectors anyways?" she asked.

"Why else would the hat place me in Slytherin?" said Avery.

"Alright." Piper said. "I'm coming with you."

It was perfect, Tom thought. He had hoped to be alone without anyone pestering him or asking him dumb questions. He did not know why he wanted to visit the library. All he knew was that he had too many questions on the first day. Maybe a book could offer an answer. He didn't want to be bothered with it the rest of the day.

Tom asked the Slytherin House ghost, the Bloody Baron for help. The ghost's blood stained clothes and eerie demeanor did not trouble Tom, unlike the other students who trembled before him.

The Bloody Baron had not uttered a word, but as he turned, Tom understood that he had to follow him. So many questions! Or rather, a curious mind. He would have to ask why he got so bloody later.

The library was the largest collection of books he had ever seen. Perhaps there was a book on every subject. The shelves were far too tall for the eyes perspective. The light peering from stained glass windows illuminated the dancing dust. Every sound was hushed and echoed. He walked to a nearby shelf without any motives.

"Perhaps I should find one on mind reading." he whispered to himself.

His short height in comparison to the rows did not help. He could only skim through the book titles of those he could see. After a half hour of searching, he struck no luck. Tom sighed, maybe another time.

Instead, he took the first interesting thing he came across with. But it was as if the book he was trying to get had not been touched by a student over a hundred years. It was stuck on the shelf between a thick layer of dust. Tom tried very hard to pluck the green hardbound copy of "Merlin's Words of Advice" from the shelf, but it would not budge.

Finally, with triumph, he had dislodged it from between the hundred years of dust. Tom was swamped with a confetti of dust as it happened. He coughed and waved his arm to fly away the debris.

Then, floating in the cloud of dust, he saw a slip of paper. Curiosity took over him and he grabbed it. Once the dust had cleared away, he read the slip which was hand written and seemed that its author was in a hurry. It said:

_Wandering reader, beware_

_ I do not mean to scare_

_But lately I've been needing,_

_Another quill to spare._

_Let's play a game,_

_Our ranks the same,_

_And maybe in the end I will,_

_tell you what's my name._


	8. A Rock's Revelation

**_Chapter_ SEVEN:** A _Rocks Revelation_

* * *

_Wandering reader, beware_

_I do not mean to scare_

_But lately I've been needing,_

_Another quill to spare._

_Let's play a game,_

_Our ranks the same,_

_And maybe in the end I will,_

_tell you what's my name._

By now Tom had already memorized the rather perplexing poem by heart. He did not know why he kept it, but he felt strangely as though there was a magical bond between the slip of paper and himself. How silly, he thought. But as he passed the trash bin to his left, he could not bring himself to discard it.

"Evening, Tom." said Professor Dumbledore. He searched the sea of heads of Dumbledore's Beginner Transfiguration classroom. Neither Piper, Avery, or Edmund shared this period with him. It was as if he had to face Dumbledore alone.

"Evening, Professor." said Tom dully. He took the only remaining table in the front of the class. The classroom reminded him a lot of Diagon Alley. Despite strictly being a Transfiguration teacher, Dumbledore's interests had spread broader than so. There was a plethora of whimsical looking gadgets and particularly useless knickknacks.

"Alright." Dumbledore began. He was rather keen on making big speeches, Tom thought. "It seems we're all here." He circled his desk to face the class. He coughed, "Welcome! Welcome! The bright new faces I see every year is always a breath of fresh air. I hope the next six years we spend together would not be in vain. I will make sure before everyone one of you walks out of this castle for good, I would have taught you a couple things or two. And not just the required knowledge it takes for you to more than pass your O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s. Forgive me if this is, shall we say, _saccharine_; but I think the most valuable magic we learn here is friendship."

A Slytherin boy behind Tom suppressed a laugh.

"Now, Transfiguration is a critical branch of magic targeted on the modification of an object, which is achieved by greatly altering its molecular structure. It divides into four separate branches: Transformation, Vanishment, Conjuration, and Untransfiguration." his last four words had written itself on the chalkboard as he spoke. "For today's lesson, we will simply attempt to multiply the quantity of a fry . And _yes,_ you do get to eat them afterwards." Dumbledore added, as a fat chubby cheeked Gryffindor raised his hand. "I originally planned for you all to turn a needle into a matchstick, but my supply of it went missing again. We will begin with a few Transfiguration theories next class. But it's your first day so I figured I'd introduce something easier. Let me demonstrate."

He waved his wand and murmured something under his breath. A large pyramid of smoking french fries appeared at his table. He took a fry and shouted an incantation. The fry at his fingertips doubled. "Easy enough." Dumbledore said, turning swiftly to the chalkboard writing the incantation and a guide to its pronunciation.

The class spent the rest of the period trying and failing at doubling their fry. Frank Illiad, a Ravenclaw, had instead transformed his fry into a potato. Frank thought it was quite an achievement and proceeded to gloat about it to anyone who would listen, until to Tom's pleasure did it explode on his face. Only Tom had succeeded and even on his first trial. Five points were added to Slytherin on his behalf.

He felt quite smug as he walked into his potions class. The room had very similar features to that of the Slytherin Dungeons. The teacher who was very plump in the middle shook each students hand as they arrived. "Professor Slughorn. How do you do?" he repeated twenty seven times.

On Professor Slughorn's desk were three cauldrons of different sizes, all emitting a different color of smoke. Tom attempted to take a little peak at it as he sat down in the only available seat next to Piper, who looked dirty and unkempt. The tips of her fingernails were a brownish black.

"During Herbology we had to collect Horklumps that were infesting a pumpkin patch." she mumbled miserably, answering Tom's look of disgust.

Professor Slughorn, who was barely over five feet, unlike Dumbledore, was not very eminent in appearance alone. But his voice was too friendly in a way which you couldn't bear to cross his line. He had a gingery blonde beard and straw colored hair. It may have been his slight resemblance of the child figure, Santa Clause that made him appear so jolly.

"Good evening, class." he said. "I am going to be your potions master for the next 6 years, so why don't we go around the room and introduce ourselves? Let me begin, I am Horace Slughorn, head of Slytherin House, and very fond of crystallized pineapples. How about you, young man? What is your name?" he directed to Basta, who chose to sit isolated far behind the class.

"Basta." said Basta, looking nervous as the whole class stared at him.

"And your last name, young man?" Slughorn asked eagerly.

"Zdravkov." Basta said, still looking very irritated that everybody was looking at him.

"Are you by any chance related to the manager of the popular company, Zdravkov's Zillion Zippers?"

"No." he finalized, irritably.

Slughorn seemed quite disappointed, "Alright," he said. "How about you?" he asked the blonde haired boy next to Basta.

"Augustus Avery, sir." Avery said.

"Anything interesting about yourself?" asked Slughorn.

"I don't know." Avery said, unsure.

"No famous or accomplished relatives or acquaintances? Have you a special talent, perhaps? There's always something. Especially for you as I recognize your surname suggests you are from a pureblood family line. Am I correct?" he badgered.

"Yes, sir." Avery said, looking up at the ceiling to think for a moment. "Er, I think I make a pretty good Seeker."

"Ah! I had a student graduate who became the seeker of Puddlemere United on my account of recommending him to their captain, who I am very close to as well. It's a shame he's resigning though." Slughorn's eyes lit up at this subject.

Slughorn continued to go around the room interrogating students of their heritage, interests, and connections with other much more accomplished witches and wizards. "What is your name, young man?" he asked Tom, finally.

"Tom Riddle." he replied.

Slughorn stroked his walrus-like mustache. "Mmm, never heard of that last name before." he whispered to himself. "You have a middle name, boy?"

"Marvolo, sir."

"I'll have to look that up sometime later. Aren't you the boy who earned Slytherin's first house points of the year?"

Tom nodded and at the same time, wondered how the word got around when it was just one class period ago.

"Impressive." Professor Slughorn smiled. "Now who may you be, young lady?" he asked Piper.

"Piper Toddlemore." Piper said as she was busy picking dirt out of her fingernails.

"I taught your mother, you know. Dora Toddlemore. She was one of the best in class, although she never really spoke. I imagine it was her strict upbringing that silenced her. But her brother on the other hand, Albert, or Bertie as he wished to be called, was quite a handful." he rambled on, more talking to himself because no one bothered to listen.

He finally turned to the curious cauldrons. "For this period, we are going to explore some of the fun aspects of Potions. Here I have an Elixir to Induce Euphoria, a Babbling Beverage, and the Alihotsy Draught. This should make a very enjoyable first day. Each of you should take a swig of each concoction. But first, open your text books and find information on these three potions, then you may get up and have a sip. But if you are the daring type, you can try these potions without knowing its effects."

This class period was quite amusing. The Elixir to Induce Euphoria, which brings out ridiculous amounts of happiness, made the fat chubby cheeked Gryffindor dance in the most comical way. And even without the Alihotsy Draught, which induced fits of laughter, did the boys horrible dancing make the class laugh hysterically. The Babbling Beverage caused the drinker to speak in utter nonsense. Tom chose not to take this as he saw it's effects on Piper which he deemed embarrassing.

"Do you how do?" she asked. She whispered to Tom, "Only I know what these walls are saying." and then in a slightly higher pitched voice she stretched out the words, _"I'll never tell._" Everyone behaved oddly after taking so many personality-altering potions, and to some, their traits that they are usually characterized with became more prominent. The chubby cheeked Gryffindor began to bawl for no reason whatsoever. Avery mindlessly smashed a brass cauldron out of sheer hate and five points were taken from Slytherin which bothered Tom since he had earned those points. And Piper was even more boorish than normal. She had called Basta a great dumb oaf as he stumbled to pronounce the word 'Alihotsy'.

After everyone had left the classroom, Tom had stayed behind. He was ordered to clean and empty out the cauldrons so he could regain the points Avery had lost. Slughorn decided that the potions weren't much of a good idea after witnessing its effects. Slughorn had also fled to use the bathroom. Tom was alone, and as he was pouring the remains down the drain, something had struck his head. "Ow!" he jumped. He looked back and found a medium sized rock on the floor. A note was attached to it. He picked it up eagerly and read:

_Wandering reader, be aware_

_You're up for quite a scare_

_For a sad and sorry tale I'll tell,_

_but cannot bear to bear._

Tom looked around him to see who or what could have thrown the rock. He began to feel very paranoid. A chill rose up his back. _I'm not scared._ He convinced himself that he must have been feeling that way due to some type of magic these mysterious poems were channeling. And plus, how could_ he_, of all people be afraid?

"TOM!" a voice shouted. It was all very quiet until this disruption which made him jump. But he quickly regained his cool as he turned around and discovered that it was merely Piper. "Are you done yet? I think we share the next period together and I wanted to wait for you." she said.

Tom was still clutching the note on his hand. "I just finished. And would you mind not being so loud at times? It's obnoxious." he complained.

Piper looked embarrassed and offended. "Okay." she said, which followed an awkward silence.

Tom still had not noticed he was holding the note on his hand. He didn't have any ideas of sharing this phenomena with anyone else because that would be the equivalent of asking for help. But Piper had seen it and when she snapped it from his hands, it was too late. In a second her eyes stormed across the small slip and she had already read it.

"You've been getting these too?!" she exclaimed. Tom snatched it back from her.

"What are you talking about?"

"Don't play dumb." she said impatiently. "I've been itching to find out what they meant. I'm not too bright but _you_ would know, right? Tell me!" she demanded.

"Calm down. I don't understand it either." he confessed. "Do you have them with you?"

Piper grabbed two balled up pieces of papers from the pockets of her robes. "Here," she handed it to him.

Tom unballed one which read:

_Not to speak is to speak_

_Which hinders the peace we seek_

_Never in my many years_

_Did I see it ever so weak_

And still he had not understood the meaning behind them. The other poem had only made it even more confusing:

_Yet no one has come to defiance_

_With a strong depended alliance_

_Because of fear, now no one dares,_

_Disturb the haunting sound of silence_

"I found one of them while digging for flobberworms. The other I found under my pillow this morning." she explained. Tom's eyes were still fixed on the poems. "So, any ideas?"

"Can I hold these?" he asked.

"Sure. He's not a very good poet anyway, and I don't understand some of the words." she said. "What does 'hinder' mean?"

"Why do you think it's a he?" said Tom, ignoring her question.

Piper shrugged, it already seemed like she was getting bored of the subject when she was excited about it minutes ago. "It sounds like a he."

As Tom and Piper walked to the Defense Against the Dark Arts room, Tom was in deep thought. Piper was rambling on about a story on when she rode her first broomstick but he faked his attention my nodding absentmindedly and saying "Really?" a couple of times without knowing what she had just said.

He wondered if there were other students receiving these poems. He wracked his brain with great concentration that he was almost completely gone from the world and as a result, tripped on two steps of stairs. Yet he had not known he tripped. _For a sad and sorry tale I'll tell,_ which was followed by, _Which hinders the peace we seek. _Peace? What peace? _Hinders the peace..._ The definition of hinder was cease. So to stop peace, there is war. And a war, Tom concluded, - - - with a feeling of relief as he uncovered a part of its meaning- - - usually follows _for a sad and sorry tale._

Immediately he thought of Grindelwald.

When he sat down for Defense Against the Dark Arts, Headmaster Dippet had walked in the room. Surely, for a busy and high ranked man as himself, he would only have come to this room if it were for very important matters? "Basta," he said in a rather sympathetic tone.

"Vhat ees it Sir?" Basta was in a middle of a humorous conversation with Susy Beadle. It was the first time Tom had seen him smile, let alone laugh. Basta had finally began to settle in.

But here was Headmaster Dippet, "Come to my office." he said in a deep, quiet voice. "There is news I must tell you."


	9. Curious Couplet

**_Chapter_ EIGHT:** _Curious__ Couplet_

* * *

Tom was most excited to learn Defense Against the Dark Arts, but throughout the whole lesson he couldn't help but feel troubled by his current complications. The mysterious poems kept crossing through his head as if it were a broken record on repeat. His eyes kept darting towards the empty seat where Basta had sat, thinking of his predicament. Professor Dippet who had appeared years older, left the room to escort Basta. The news must not have been a happy one.

Tom took out a roll of parchment and a feather quill, anticipating the arrival of his new teacher. Moments later, a very pretty woman of asian descent strutted her way in. He felt that she must have walked in the wrong room for her loud, lilac attire seemed out of place in comparison to the other staff members.

The Defense Against the Dark Arts professor was a very young and attractive lady. Tom inferred that she must have been the professor that Edmund fancied. It seemed she took more time to curl her hair than to plan her first lesson. It was good news to hear when she announced she was only substituting until the real D.A.D.A. teacher had healed from an injury she received from visiting Burma. An injury which Galatea Merrythought wished to be classified since she hoped to surprise them with a story upon her return.

Professor Inanis was skinny and high in stature. Every so often she would softly swing her hair back, which irked Tom to a great extent. For his amusement, he started to count the number of times she did so. Inanis had made the seemingly most interesting subject, the most mundane and brain-cell-killing topic where the only thing Tom recalled learning, was that Wurt's Wasps lotion isn't worth your money.

So it was with an enormous relief as they were dismissed from class. Tom headed to the Astronomy Tower. Only then did he begin to realize the real grandness of the castle. He had become so sweaty for the long flights of stairs but was quickly relieved when he entered the Astronomy Tower, which had a breezy feel. Instead of walls there were wide windows that opened up to the heavens. He appreciated the serene architecture of the room which helped clear his mind. The first day of school and he was already so busy minded. He checked his schedule and was relieved to find that it was the last period of the day. Every Monday he had five periods, and two periods for the rest of the week.

The Astronomy professor, Paul Sidera, was very wealthy in melanin and had a polished bald head. He had a deep voice which made Tom very sleepy.

About halfway through the lesson, he saw two small red eyes hovering a foot above a window sill; the only window that was open. He had to stare at it for a moment to conclude that they were eyes and was shocked when he discovered that it was so. Tom chose to keep quiet about it, despite the slight chance that it could have been a creature that could endanger the lives of the students who sat near it. But this_ had_ to mean something, he thought. He had a strong feeling it did, and his strong feelings were often right, he was Tom Riddle after all. And the poetic messages came to him in the most peculiar ways. Unfortunately he was sitting at the other side of the room and he could not just all of a sudden walk across the classroom without grabbing attention.

But Piper, who took a seat at the other side of the classroom, had her back right behind the two eyes that now blinked. Tom stared at her for a good five minutes until she had noticed.

"What?" she mouthed back. Tom lead his eyes to the window and then back at her, and to the window again.

Meanwhile, Professor Sidera was speaking about the Orion Belt. "The Belt of Orion consists of three stars, Alnitak, Alnilam, and Mintaka, bright enough to be visible among muggle city lights."

Piper slowly turned her back and gasped.

"What's wrong?" Professor Sidera asked. The classroom looked at her sleepily.

Piper put her hand to her head, "I feel sick." she quickly said in a queasy voice.

"Why don't you go to the Hospital Wing? They should be able to fix you in a second there." Sidera advised.

"No." Piper said dramatically. "I don't want to miss the lesson." she lied.

Piper's horrible acting made Tom very sick himself. "Now, now, your well being is much more important." Sidera said.

"Why don't I just take a breather of this fine, fresh air?" she suggested hopefully, pointing at the open window.

"Alright." said Sidera, who quickly continued his lesson.

Tom watched Piper cautiously approach the open window. She slowly raised her arm, probably to test the aggressiveness of the creature, and when he heard her laugh and approached further without caution, he concluded that the creature must have been friendly. Piper returned to her seat, clutching something in her fist.

Piper mouthed something to Tom, which he deciphered as, "Bird."

She unwrinkled the crumpled up piece of paper and scanned her eyes across the paper.

Tom quickly snatched it from her the moment they left the classroom, heading to the Great Hall. "It was like a giant crow." Piper described enthusiastically as Tom read the poem which was shorter than usual:

_I've a secret I cannot shroud_

_But ink is far too loud_

"It had the message inside its beak. What do you think it means?" said Piper.

"This..." Tom found it difficult to find a word to appropriately describe it. "This... _scribe,"_ he finally decided,"Wants to tell us something. But he can't disclose it through messages because it might be intercepted."

Tom thought it was a waste of a note since he already figured out that much already.

Piper looked at him impressively. "Who do you think is writing to us?"

"I'm more interested on_ why_." said Tom. He had a strong speculation but he didn't want to tell Piper.

They quickly finished their dinner and headed to the Slytherin Dungeons before anyone else. Basta was not present during the feast and they hoped to see him there. The dorms were eerily quiet. The therapeutic sound of the lake made the beds even more inviting. But before they slumbered, they went to find Basta crying under his covers.

They came near him slowly so as not to scare him. "Hey, Basta." Piper said softly. "What's the matter?"

"We were worried about you all day." Tom added dishonestly. He did not expect him to respond. Basta continued to weep beneath his bed sheet. Tom took a seat on Basta's bed.

"I understand that you don't want to tell us right now. It took me years until I had the courage to tell my friends outside of my orphanage that I had no parents." Tom whispered, misleading him once more.

Basta peaked from his covers. "Vreally?" he asked sympathetically.

Tom nodded solemnly. Piper had seen through his act as he heard her say, "Oh please!" in a whisper.

"Goodnight." said Tom. As he got up from the side of Basta's bed, Basta called out to him.

"Vait!" he choked from his sobs. "If you vreally vant to know..." he said hesitantly.

Tom turned to look at him, as though already expecting him to spill.

"My matha..." he cried. "She's dead." Even to speak of it was a chore. Basta released a great cry over his pillow, muffling his sobs.

"I'm sorry." said Tom. "She was a great woman."

"You varely knew her." Basta said, which was true.

"I'm sorry. I just inferred she was when she raised you."

At the corner of his eye, he saw Piper roll her eyes. Basta's crying slightly quieted. "What are you trying to get out of him?" Piper whispered.

Tom stood in patience like a spider waiting for its prey, eager to uncover information of something that had troubled him throughout the day when his only source of information was from a reporter who was too distracted by the abdominal problems of Puddlemere United's captain, when writing of the deaths of over a hundred. He found Basta's hatred for what Tom was trying to egg on and the death of his mother very relevant to one another.

Then, as Tom predicted, Basta growled, "Grindelwald vill pay."

"What do you mean?" Tom and Piper asked in unison.

Basta sat upright and took a deep breath. He cleared his throat to what would have been a very long story until behind them they heard two sets of feet scraping on the shiny ebony floor. "You think they're here?" one of them said.

Basta shot back inside his covers. He whispered to them, "I'm sorry. Meh-be too-morrow."

"Yeah." said the second voice. "You don't think they- - -? Hey!"

It was Avery and Edmund leaving early from dinner. Edmund had stopped his sentence midpoint as he saw them.

"Why did you two disappear like that?" asked Avery.

Edmund peeked from behind them. "Oh," he laughed. "What'd you do to make that great, dumb, cross eyed beast cry?"

Basta let out another great moan. Angered, Piper rushed towards Edmund to pack a huge punch but to everyone's surprise, Basta had beat her to it. There was a very audible sound of bone hitting bone. It took a moment for Tom to take all this in, it happened so quickly, and in his opinion Edmund said nothing wrong.

Edmund laid sprawled on the floor, unconscious. For a moment the four of them just stood there. Avery looked most conflicted, his best friend had just been knocked out cold but Edmund_ did_ bring it all to himself.

"Just put him on his bed and act like nothing happened tomorrow." Piper suggested, bending over to grab Edmund's feet. "Someone take his hands." she struggled. Avery assisted her in assisting Edmund to his bed.

"No!" Basta shouted. "I vant him to vnow who deed this to him." he scorned, clenching his fists.

Piper was breathing heavily from having picked up half of Edmund's weight. "Basta, it's not worth it." she panted, whispering to add effect. "God! Can we just all go to sleep?" she left for the girl's dormitory, slamming the door behind her.

Avery left for the Great Hall, claiming that he had left something. But it was probably just to escape the awkward tension that was bubbling right now.

The night had favored Tom tonight. He was alone with Basta. "Tell me." he said simply after Basta's heart rate depleted. Even if Grindelwald had nothing to do with the scribe, it was still an intriguing topic.

Basta looked at him pensively. "The Daily Vrophet ees vay behind."

"Isn't it strange how he was just a student just like ourselves? Maybe he liked normal things like art and _poetry_." Tom attempted to hint.

Basta did not appear too pleased. "Don't try to make him vlook like he vas evar human."

"Horrible man." Tom began, although secretly, he didn't mind him doing mass killings of muggles. Perhaps if he was lucky Grindelwald would go for orphanages next. All the while Tom has been in Hogwarts, he had been feeling a great urge to tell the orphans back at Wool's, about the food Hogwarts served and that his school was a castle. How jealous they would become! But at the same time, he didn't want to because fate had chosen _him_ of all children to belong in this Wizarding world, and he didn't want to share that glory. "But one man couldn't possibly do it all?" he said.

"Vell, he does haf cohorts." said Basta.

"What kind?" Tom asked quickly.

Basta laid back down in bed. "I dunno. Vut isn't it obvious vat someone like him does?" Basta said thoughtfully. "I vait to see the day vhen he keeps too much imprisoned, vat it backfires. More enemies zhen followers! The last dictator in my country vent down vat way. Maybe history vill repeat itself."


End file.
